That Which Is Found
by LitDragonWagon
Summary: The first 5 meetings of Blue and Green, and the resulting sparks that shape their lives. Or: In which Naruto might need a bit of help, he gets more than he ever expected, and (coincidentally) Harry has always had a saving people thing, especially when it comes to children. MoD!Harry, not slash.
1. Chapter 1

Title: That Which is Found

Summary: The first 5 meetings of blue and green, and the resulting sparks that shape their lives. Or: In which Naruto might need a bit of help, he gets more than he ever expected, and (coincidentally) Harry has always had a saving people thing, especially when it comes to children. MoD!Harry, not slash.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Naruto, they belong to their respective owners.

"Speech"

'Thought'

 **Biju or Biju-fied Naruto**

Warnings: Off-screen torture, instances of mild child neglect/abuse (I'm honestly not sure how to judge this considering some of the shit I've seen with no warning. Ya'll know your own limits though, so if you're concerned, be careful please)

A/N: I like this one, I think it's pretty cute. It was an experiment in an unfamiliar writing style, so I'm not sure how it came out *shrugs*, I like it though. This is slated to be a twoshot (maybe more if anyone's interested), so it'll be an actual reasonably lengthed, cute little thing. Please enjoy, and read/review if you're so inclined!

*****Line Break*****

1.

The first time they meet, it's early evening, he's 6, and he's trying to keep ahead of a mob of civilians (and he's doing fairly well, if he does say so himself, though that's probably because he's got a lot of practice). He's managed to break ahead of the crowd by a pretty good margin, so he veers off into an alleyway beside a shop that he's never seen before, hoping to come out of it, loop around a few buildings, and lose his tail so that he can get home faster (or at all).

It takes him only a few steps to realize that the alley's a dead end, but a quick glance behind him tells him that it's too late to turn around (they'd only catch him faster and he'd lose his slight advantage), so he runs in further.

He trips over a trashcan - damn, how did he miss that? - and he barely manages to catch it before it loudly falls over. A panicked glance around shows that he, the trashcan, and the dumpster are the only things in the alley, and he, for lack of a better option, squeezes himself beside the dumpster and pulls the trashcan in front of him. There's no way this'll hold them for long, but he just needs more time to think so that he can get out of this.

The mob pauses at the mouth of the alley, apparently some believe he ran past it and around the next corner, but the others think he went through the alley in front of them. He almost breathes a sigh of relief, but then they decide to split up, and about 4 of them are still headed his way. _Think_ his mind murmurs, _think_.

He begins to hyperventilate as the voices at the end of the alley get closer and closer, his pupils dilating with fear. He's never been caught before, he's always managed to get away, and he's terrified of what comes after this; despite not knowing the exacts, he's sure it won't be good for him. The group is looking for him, and he can't quite hear their voices over the sound of his pounding heartbeat, but they're muttering something about 'it's impossible' and 'well he didn't just _disappear_ , idiot' and then nothing else is coming through over the sound of white noise and his quiet pants.

He tenses as, out of the corner of his eye he sees a door opening. He looks up sharply, and frightened blue eyes lock with placid green. There's a man standing in the doorway of the building whose alley they're inhabiting for the moment. His brilliant (almost glowing) green eyes quickly flit over everything, taking in the situation; the cowering blond crouching behind a trashcan, the angry-looking mob searching for something.

The blond tenses further as the man takes a step out of his doorway, bringing him one step closer to his _very_ vulnerable hiding place. Another look at the whiskered blond, and the man turns to look at the group. He opens his mouth, and Naruto tenses to run as soon as he can, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, but his limbs go slightly loose in surprise as the group only looks around sheepishly before leaving.

Naruto breaths a sigh of relief as the four men leave, but tenses again as glowing green eyes send an assessing look his way. He's ready to run again, but the man just glances to a nearby rooftop, turns around, and heads back into his shop. Naruto warily waits another couple of minutes for the other shoe to drop, but when nothing happens he darts from his hiding place and heads for home, slipping from shadow to shadow to avoid the notice of the few people still outside. Green eyes watch until he's out of sight, eyes trailing from the whiskered blonde to glare angrily at the masked ANBU following him.

2.

The second time they meet, it's mid-afternoon, he's 7, and he's roughly scrubbing away tears as he crouches next to an oddly familiar dumpster (but he figures that if anyone should be familiar with the dumpsters in Konoha it's him; he's hidden in them enough), cruel words still echoing in his mind. His fellow children could be even more vicious than the adults could (dared to) be. As an almost comically enthusiastic boy with a strange fashion sense, and the pariah to boot, he's an easy target for even the most wary bully, no one willing to sully themselves and defend him.

He tenses as someone squats down in front of him, the man's white apron becoming slightly dirtied from the alley ground. He starts as a handkerchief is smoothly moved into his line of vision by an offering hand. He doesn't want to look up (as soon as people meet his eyes and see his marks, kindness turns to cruelty, concern to scorn, pity to disgust).

He stiffens further as a gentle hand grips his chin, and tilts his face up from where his eyes are locked on the ground. Still avoiding eye contact, he waits for a push, a slap, a cruel word, for the person to recoil in disgust upon realizing that they're attempting to comfort the demon brat. His eyes flinch shut as the person gently strokes over the bruise marring his right eye (some bullies were more physical than others), the light, barely there touch leaving tingles behind, and he awaits whatever this person has planned (because no one would help him).

He jerks in surprise as the handkerchief brushes away his tears, and he opens his eyes slightly to peer through his lashes at the man in front of him. Even though slightly blurred vision, there is no mistaking those glowing green eyes, and he opens his eyes further to take the man in, fear retreating but far from gone, making way for wariness, curiosity, and a healthy dose of confusion in its wake.

Luminescent green orbs eye him assessingly as calloused hands carefully wipe his face free of tears and dirt. Naruto is frozen; no one's ever done this before, not even Jiji. No one ever touches him without evil intent in mind because he's the demonbratpariahkiller _monster_ , and then his chin is released and the man is standing. Their eyes are locked again, and Naruto finds that he can't seem to look away. He jolts as the man reaches out, pats him on the head, and heads back to his shop.

A few moments more of frozen shock, then Naruto heads home. Before he goes to sleep that night, he notices (in the warped reflection his cracked and broken mirror portrays) that his black eye is gone. He attributes it to whatever normally makes him heal quickly, and goes to bed.

3.

The third time they meet, it's too early to be morning, Naruto is 8, and he's out of food again. The masks are supposed to get it for him, but only Weasel, Dog, and Snake ever really bother, and Rat and Lizard are the ones on duty right now. Bear, at least, would bring him _something_ , a bowl of fruit, some vegetables, or even some instant ramen, but these two were completely content to let him suffer.

This time had been even worse than usual, because he'd had to decide between using everything he had for bills or going hungry, and while intellectually he realizes that his water bill was more important, his grumbling stomach's complaints don't make him feel any better. He _should_ be able to pay all his bills _and_ get food, but they always skimp on his stipend (he's just the demon brat after all).

He takes the lid off another trash can, and wrinkles his nose at the moldy smell before carefully picking through the rancid bits of food to try and find something to quiet the grumbles of his stomach. He's considered going to Jiji or Iruka-sensei or Teuchi-ossan about this, but he doesn't want to bother them (doesn't want to burden them, doesn't want to push past those boundaries, doesn't want to turn the warmth in their eyes to cold), so he'll just do this himself. He's independent, almost a grown up now! He pushes his way through binding depression to put a large, brittle smile on his face, pushing away the shame and sadness and rage to keep going.

All he's managed to find by this point is a few bits and bobs too rotten to eat, the rest having already been taken by rats, stray dogs, and the other orphans not lucky enough to have an apartment. His smile is locked onto his face, even as he clutches his protesting stomach and walks with brittle bones. He's been out here since 3, the sun is just beginning to come up, and he's found nothing. He knows that he'll have to retreat soon, food found or not, because the streets become dangerous for him as the sun rises.

He stumbles his way forward, and ducks into an alley to rest for a moment. He idly moves the lid from the trash can next to him (he didn't notice it at first, but he figures that's just hunger vision for you), not particularly hopeful, but going through the motions anyway. His head jerks to the side as he smells not the normal scent expected of trash, but the scent of cut vegetables, relatively fresh fruit, and bread.

He peers hopefully into the trash can, apparently freshly dumped from a restaurant (odd, for 5 in the morning). He immediately dives in. The lettuce from a salad is a bit wilted, the bread a bit stale, the fruit a bit bruised, but it's the only food he's seen in days, and fresher than anything he's ever found in the garbage before. His gag reflex doesn't even twinge as he begins to gorge himself, not sure when he'll find food again.

The jingle of keys some feet to his left breaks him out of his single-minded focus. His eyes shoot to the sound, his hands paused. Glowing green eyes stare back at him, their owner holding keys out to lock the side door of the restaurant...and yes, there's the dumpster he hid behind a few weeks ago, he's in the alley again. They're both evaluating each other, and Naruto shifts warily, preparing to flee at the slightest provocation. Despite recognizing the man's past kindness to him, no one likes a street urchin.

Green eyes hold him in their normal assessing look. Still keeping eye contact, he backs away, turning as he reaches the mouth of the alley, and fleeing, that assessing gaze still filling his mind.

oOo

He manages to stay away for a couple of days until the hunger drives him back. He comes earlier than last time, hoping that, perhaps, the man will not be here. Creeping with every bit of stealth that he can manage (a considerable amount for an academy student), he slowly makes his way to the mouth of the alley, peering down the narrow street to check for others. He thanks his rarely lucky stars when the alley is empty, and the trash cans appear to be untouched, and unlocked; no chains keep them closed, and they are, to appearances, easy pickings. For once, something is going right.

He skulks his way to them and reaches out hungrily to take the top off of one of them, but jumps like a scalded cat when he feels a slight shock in his fingertips. It's no more painful than a slap on the wrist, but he finds himself in an odd mixture of confusion and feeling emotionally stung. He should've known that the man would do something to keep him - everyone, that is - out, but somewhere deep in his mind he'd been harvesting feelings of hope that head have at least one person on his side.

He scolds himself for his weakness even as he cautiously reaches out his hand again, this time to the other can. He braces for the shock, but there is none, the trashcan merely won't open. He struggles with it for a few minutes, digging his nails under the edges, and even accidentally knocking it over when he kicks it in hungry frustration, but it won't open.

Giving up, he sits down against the wall next to the trashcan, nearly putting his hand in a bowl of food. He stares down at it in confusion, wondering if it's one of those strange mi-rage things Daifu-sensei once told the class about, but upon attempting to touch it, his hand meets the warm outer rim of the bowl. He lifts it and stares into it in utter confusion, nostrils subconsciously flaring as he takes in the warm, brothy scent.

A sound from the other end of the alley startles him, prompting him into sudden and panicked flight. The bowl is still in his hands when he arrives home, and after placing it on the table and staring at it suspiciously from multiple angles and places in the room, testing it for corrosive substances by dripping some on his table (on purpose, of course), and feeding some to his flatmate (a particularly unfriendly rat that had taken a liking to his apartment and would _not_ leave) to check for poison, he finally just shrugs his shoulders and bites the bullet, scarfing it down.

It's warm and rich, with beef cooked in a way he's never had it before, carrots, potatoes, and thick, meaty gravy, and he's never felt so happily full on so little in his life. An hour later he's freaking out from the strange pain in his stomach, and the rest of him, convinced he's going to die, but upon waking up in the morning with nothing more than an ache (panicking is tiring work), he concludes that he's probably just not use to such rich food.

His money comes the next day, and apparently Snake is back because his fridge has an overabundance of dango added to the normal food, filling it to the brim. Naruto is very glad to have a reliable food source again, but he feels like he should do something nice for the person who fed him, now that he can. He washes the bowl until it sparkles, then (with help from a confused Hokage) sloppily paints it his favorite shade of orange (the shade that makes him happiest) and, the next night, sneaks back to the alley and places the bowl back where he got it from before retreating home.

And when there's no food again, the alley is the first place he goes (despite knowing there's no way he'll find more food there, he can't keep himself away), and he's surprised and happy to find his orange bowl, now with a green stripe around the middle, sitting on the ground with another dish in it.

4.

The fourth time they meet, it's early afternoon, he's 9, and he's just finished a (rather clever if he does say so himself) prank at the academy, and is running away from the masks trying to catch him. He's being clever, leading them through pre-placed traps that, since he knows they're there, he's able to avoid, but leave his pursuers covered in glitter, orange feathers, and obnoxiously orange paint. He'd already determined several escape routes before initiating his prank, but all of them led back to the same familiar alley, the one he'd noted that the masks almost seemed to not notice, and the one he went to for food.

He's found that when the dumpster is empty, he's easily able to open it, but when it has garbage in it it's completely impossible. It works like clockwork, and he's' begun planning his pranks around it; mostly implementing them on the Mondays and Thursdays that the dumpster is emptied. It means that the masks have come to expect trouble on Mondays and Thursdays, but that's fine by him. He likes the challenge.

As he snickers inside the (surprisingly clean) dumpster, congratulating himself for a job well done and an escape well played, the dumpster suddenly opens, and a trash bag appears in his field of vision as someone prepares to drop it in. He squawks in instinctive surprise before clamping his mouth shut, but the damage is already done, he knows it. Once the person sees who's in their dumpster they'll shut it and lock it and throw away the key and oh god he's gonna _die_ here, but the trash bag is dropped, hitting the ground with quiet thunk, and he's surprised by the intense rush of relief he feels when familiar face pokes in, staring down at him in mild bemusement.

Green eyes meet blue, one set full of wary relief, the other placidly staring, before the man does something that surprises Naruto so much he falls out of his crouch to his bottom on the dumpster floor. He speaks.

He states, calmly, as though he speaks to people in dumpsters all the time, "Ah, you must be why the ANBU are running around so frantically."

His voice is a low, pleasant tenor with strange accent, and before Naruto can think, he's hopping to his feet and pointing at the man, blurting out "Hey, how come ya think this's my fault! Could be anything, really!"

The man raises an eyebrow at him and he internally winces. He hadn't meant to be so rude to the man who's been feeding him for almost 6 months now without expecting payment, and now he's gonna hate him forever just like everyone else and he'll lose the only sort-of-friend he has other than Jiji and the dog mask guy who leaves him presents every so often and actually _talks_ to him (him! The demon brat!) without sneering, but then the man's speaking again, replying, "The bright orange of the paint and feathers they're covered in was a pretty good clue."

And Naruto's so happy that the man remembers (and that the man _sees_ him, doesn't glare at a monster, doesn't stare through him with angryhauntedfrightened eyes), and relieved to just have someone, anyone, talk to him (acknowledge him, not curse his existence), that he blurts out, "Hey, who are you anyway?" Another internal wince as the man's other eyebrow raises.

The reply comes as, "I'm the owner of this restaurant who's dumpster you're inhabiting," and Naruto almost pouts at the non-answer. He barely manages to stifle a flinch as the man reaches an arm into the dumpster toward him, but isn't able to stop the yelp as the man lifts him easily and sets him on his feet outside of the dumpster. Once the two are face to face, the man continues, stating "But my name is Hari. Nice to meet you."

Naruto is shocked again (a sadly common occurrence). Nice to meet him? No one's ever happy to meet him. He blames the shock for the fact that he yells out "I'm Uzumaki Naruto, and I'm going to be Hokage, dattebayo!"

The stranger, no, Hari-san, winces slightly and twists his pinkie in his ear, muttering, "Lower the volume a bit, kid, I've got sensitive ears." Naruto scuffs the ground contritely, staring down at his fraying shoes in silence, and flinches when he feels a hand on his head, gently ruffling his hair. He jerks his head up to look at the man in front of him, who murmurs, "Hokage, huh? Well, if anyone can do it, it's you kid. Good luck." Before walking through the back door leading into his restaurant.

Naruto watches him go, still frozen in shock. Someone acknowledging his dream instead of just blowing it off? No one has ever reacted with anything other than scorn to his declarations; even Jiji just chuckles at him in a patronizing way before patting him on the head. This, this event is amazing. It's moralizing. It gives him a warm feeling that doesn't go away even when he's caught by the ANBU and taken to Jiji's office to be reprimanded, because apparently filling the girls bathroom with toads wasn't a good way to handle his problems. Go figure.

5.

The fifth time they meet, Naruto's 10, it's almost midnight, and he needs somewhere to stay. His landlord tossed him out for the week, citing that he hadn't paid his rent. Considering that the money for his rent was sup _posed_ to be taken automatically from his stipend, he assumes that either the man is lying to him, or he didn't get his money again this month, probably because someone was drunk somewhere along the line (he has a lot of opinions about how their government works). Despite arguing against it, he's only 10, so when his landlord had threatened to bodily throw him from the building, he'd decided that discretion was the greater part of valor and conceded momentary defeat.

He'd waited outside in the cold for three hours, hoping the masks would help him out a bit, but the masks are nowhere to be found, and he knows that if he stays on the streets he's going to die, either from the mid-January cold, or from some outside attack. He goes to the only place he knows of that might help him, Hari-san's restaurant. The man had been helping him for months, they'd even talked once, so surely he'd help him again? It's a long shot, but it's his only hope, so he stands from where he's seated on the frigid ground, and takes off at a quick jog toward Hari-san's, snow beginning to fall even as his steps speed up.

When he gets there, teeth chattering and breath coming out in billowing gasps, the lights are out and the restaurant is closed. He leans against the wall, slowly sliding down it to sit in the quickly forming snow, and tries not to cry. He stuffs his hands into his armpits, curling into as small of a ball as he can physically manage in order to preserve warmth. He doesn't know how long he's seated for, but he can practically feel himself freezing over, and he's on the verge of sleep, but something is telling him that if he falls asleep, he probably won't wake up again.

Hours later, the jingling of keys and the slightest sound of crunching snow are his only indication that someone is near. He opens his eyes, tears bitingly cold and practically frozen on his cheeks, ready to flee as soon as he can work up the energy to move his frigid limbs, but is utterly relieved to see Hari-san leaving the shop.

He opens his mouth to call out, but he can't seem to find his voice, can't seem to move either. A strange wheeze comes out, near silent, and he begins to lose hope again, but it seems that Hari heard it, because he stiffens and whips around, reaching for something in his pocket. Upon seeing Naruto in the snow, lips blue with cold and covered in a light layer of frost, his mouth drops open in an uncharacteristic display of shock, and he rushes over, beginning to curse in several languages.

Naruto's head lols as he's lifted from the ice encrusted ground, and he curls closer to Hari-san's body heat instinctively, Hari's chest vibrating slightly as he speaks. He's muttering, something about a hospital? Does Hari-san need to go to the hospital? Is Hari-san _sick_?! Naruto hopes not, he'd feel really bad if Hari-san was out in this cold for him and he was sick. Wait, Hari-san's asking him something? Oh, no, he's just speaking. Well, he should probably pay attention anyway.

Forcing himself to focus, he turns his head slightly, and catches the end of the sentence, "- to the hospital, Naruto." Confused, he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out again. Hari-san seems to get the gist of his question though, repeating his statement. "I'm taking you to the hospital, Naruto." he states, beginning to head in the direction of the Leaf Village's main hospital. Oh, Hari-san wants to take _him_ to the hospital? That's fine then, he supposes. His eyes begin to close again, but then shoot open.

Him, at the hospital? That's...that's actually not a good idea. The last time he'd gone in there, he'd limped through the door on a broken ankle, cradling his ribs, bleeding from a cut above his eye, and someone had literally kicked him back outside. They didn't like him at the hospital. Going to the hospital is a Bad Thing, and he tries to say as much, but doesn't get out more than some heavier breaths for a moment.

Hari-san is still walking quickly, like a man on a mission, and Naruto knows he has to stop him, because if he goes to the hospital he's probably going to die. Digging deep, he reaches up an arm, twining his fingers in the front of Hari-san's apron and pulling to get his attention. Hari looks at him in confusion, slowing, and Naruto slurs out something about Them wanting him dead even more than the rest of the village, somehow getting out something more than wheezes for a moment.

He waits until green eyes fill with understanding before allowing his arm to drop, his eyelids sliding to half mast as he observes Hari-san's reaction. The green orbs darken in dawning realization and anger, and Naruto almost flinches before he realizes that the anger isn't directed at him. It's strange, someone being angry for him, instead of at him. He doesn't think anyone has been angry for his sake in, well...forever.

He feels his eyelids getting heavier, the warmth of Hari-san's body and the man's heartbeat dragging him closer and closer to the black in the corners of his vision. He falls asleep in the swaying arms, and to the soothing sound of the other man's melodic voice telling him to stay awake.

oOo

When Naruto wakes up, he doesn't know where he is or why he's there, though it's the work of a few moments to realize this.

His eyes slip open, long eyelashes fluttering as tan eyelids slide back from azure eyes, and he stares hazily at the ceiling for a moment. He sits up slowly, stretching languidly as the blankets, all in tasteful shades of green, pool around his hips. He yawns, rubbing the sleep out of one eye, and stares with blank confusion at the walls around him.

These...are not his walls. His walls are white, with dingy spots and randomly placed stains and old graffiti that he does his best to ignore because _it just won't wash off_. These walls are a beautiful shade of dark green. His hands stroke along the soft blankets around him, which are certainly not his. His sole blanket is scratchy, holey, and leaves him him cold around this time of year.

The sound of birdsong drifts through the window, another discrepancy that proves this is not his room, as the first thing he hears in the morning is often the cursing of the other early morning denizens of the red-light district. The final nail is the smell of food drifting through the space, because his house smells only of the cheap cleaning agents he uses to keep his house clean (and to get rid of the ruin that people leave behind), never of food he hasn't made himself. So, his conclusion must be that this is _not_ his house.

It takes another moment for this to sink in, and his eyes, previously half-lidded with sleep-warm content, widen. He scrambles out of the bed, or tries to anyway. His legs get wrapped up in the blankets, and he waves his arms wildly for a moment before finally falling to the floor in a heap with a thump. He freezes for a moment, his heart beating wildly as he waits for someone to come rushing to kick him out. When no one has 5 minutes later, he slowly stands up with a sigh of relief.

Creeping over to the bedroom door, he opens it silently and pokes his head out, looking first one way, then the other. No one is there, so he steps out completely, his steps light and his breathing even, just like he'd been taught at the academy (or like he'd learned from his pranks, really, because no one ever teaches him anything). He skulks down the stairs, past a master bedroom that is, thankfully, empty, a bathroom, and a room that looks sort of like an office.

He can hear sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen, which is unfortunately the only remaining obstacle between him and the door that leads outside. He steels himself to go run past it, dart out the door and find his way back to his apartment, but before he can even take a step, he hears a familiar voice call from the kitchen, "Naruto, breakfast is almost ready. You can come in here and wait if you want, but if you want to go back to the guest room, that's fine too."

That voice is...Hari-san? In a rush, his memories of the previous night come back to him, and he's almost embarrassed at his behavior this morning. All this sneaking around for nothing. He pouts as he walks cautiously into the kitchen, and sits down at the table, which is already laden with various fruits and...well, he thinks that's yogurt, but he's not sure.

Hari-san speaks again, startling him as he inspects the strange, pale substance, and he jerks his eyes to the other. "I wasn't sure what you like, so I kinda just made everything." The green-eyed man looks faintly embarrassed as he turns back toward his stove, and Naruto feels some of his remaining wariness slip away. No one has ever treated him like this, like a normal person, with kindness and compassion and actual _emotion_ and - well, he just thinks that it'd be doing the other man a disservice if he treated him with any less courtesy than the green-eyed man treated him with, okay?

He's shaken out of his thoughts as Hari-san walks over, settling a large plate of bacon, eggs, some strange circle things, something that looks like shredded cheese, and slices of some kind of meat, in front of him. Naruto looks between it and Hari-san with wide eyes. What _is_ all this?

He must've spoken aloud, because Hari-san speaks up a moment later, with a faintly amused expression. "The bacon and eggs I'm sure you recognize. The circles are pancakes, a sort of breakfast pastry from my homeland. Then we have potatoes, and some fried slices of ham." Hari-san turns away from him then, retrieving a plate of his own, and sits down across from him at the table, beginning to eat. He watches as the man begins to eat (not because he thinks the food is _poisoned_ or anything, that's stupid), sweeping black hair behind his ear as it drapes into his eyes.

Hari-san gives him an odd look, glancing between his face and his plate, then back again pointedly. Naruto suddenly realizes that he hasn't touched his food yet, too busy taking in the sight of another friendly human being, and he hastily grabs a fork, mumbling "Itadakimasu," and digging in as politely as he can.

His resolve at being polite is immediately tested, because this is the best food he's ever had. Other than Teuchi-ossan's ramen of course, because ramen is the food of the gods. And when Hari-san tells him to add some of that weird see-rup stuff? Amazing. It's so _sweet_. He polishes off his plate, and Hari-san gives him seconds before he can even begin to try and dredge up the courage to ask for them, and Naruto is just barely holding the tears in because no one has _ever_ treated him like this.

They finish eating, and then they just sit. Naruto thinks it should be awkward, but it isn't, not really. Hari-san is drinking tea and reading from the _FC News_ , a newspaper that covers the major stories of the Fire Country, while Naruto just kind of drifts in a content food coma, stretched back languidly in his chair.

Eventually though, Hari-san finishes his tea, and sets down his newspaper with a sigh. Naruto wonders what they do now, because he has no idea of the etiquette of these things. Does he say thank you and leave, try to find somewhere else to stay for the next day? Does he owe Hari-san something now? Probably so, people don't just help out of the goodness of their heart, at least not if it's him.

He's beginning to feel a bit lost, when Hari-san suddenly pins him with a stern look, and he freezes automatically because that's a lot like the look that Iruka-sensei gives him when he finds him after his pranks and it makes him frantically backpedal and wonder what he's done or if he should run before he's tied up and returned to the classroom.

He stays in his seat though, because he told himself he'd treat the man with courtesy, and running out of his house just because he looked at him isn't polite. He starts a bit when Hari-san speaks, not because he wasn't expecting it, but because the words are on a completely different subject than the one he'd been preparing to discuss. "Naruto, why were you outside my restaurant in the middle of the night, in the dead of winter?" The man asks, and Naruto's mind blanks a bit.

Hari-san wants him to _tell_? That goes against everything he's learned in his life; never tell anyone your weak points unless you want to be stabbed in them, don't ask for help because people will just kick you while you're down, and _never trust adults_. This last is a bit iffy, because doesn't Iruka-sensei count as an adult? Doesn't Teuchi-ossan count as an adult? Jiji's definitely and adult, and an _old_ one at that.

But really, he can honestly say that he doesn't completely trust them either. He's always kept some pieces of his heart to himself because he doesn't know that he could handle it if they took everything he had to give, and then stomped on his fragile trust broke it.

This in mind, Naruto tries to wave it off. "Oh, I uh - I forgot my key! I got, um…" Hari-san's face is getting sterner, and Naruto frantically tries to make up a good lie, because...just because, okay? "I got locked out, and my landlord has been out for weeks on, uh, landlord business?" He cringes, because this doesn't sound like a good lie, even to him. "So I couldn't get him to let me in. It was a stupid mistake of mine, won't happen again!" He stands from his chair, stretching quickly and faking a shocked look at the clock. "Wow, is that the time? I'm gonna be late for the academy, gotta go!" he says quickly, and turns to leave.

"Naruto." Hari-san's tone is familiar, and Naruto stops in his tracks instinctively, because that's the same false-calm that Iruka-sensei uses, and he ducks his head. "Your key was in the pocket of your jacket, which you almost left behind in my washing machine, by the way." He hears the chair on the other side of the table as it's pushed back. "Your landlord was in my restaurant two days ago, brash, blunt, and rude as usual, complaining about the delivery service." He hears footsteps behind him, but he can't seem to move. "And it's Saturday morning, there's no school today." A hand lands gently on his shoulder, and he starts violently, whipping around to face shuttered green eyes.

Naruto opens his mouth to say something, he doesn't know what, but Hari-san interrupts him before he can even begin, kneeling to be eye level with him and murmuring, "Please tell me the truth. I only want to help you." Naruto wants to scoff, he wants to run away from this man and his lies, but he doesn't. He can't. Not when he remembers the Hari-san from last night, who touched him without disgust and carried him and talked to him and helped him and got _angry for him_ -

"He kicked me out and I didn't know where else to go." He blurts, avoiding those eyes as he fidgets nervously. And somehow the whole sordid story comes tumbling out in a rush, though he manages to stop himself before he tells the man more than he asked for.

Hari-san's expression hardens as Naruto babbles, and when Naruto's just standing there, feeling naked without some of his secrets to cover his vulnerable spots, but somehow lighter in a good way, Hari-san stands. Hari-san raises a hand to the bridge of his nose (and Naruto prides himself on how he doesn't flinch), and Naruto catches some mutters about Hokages and management, and Naruto feels his heartbeat fly in his chest because _no_. If he finds out how _weak_ he is, Jiji will _leave_ him and he honestly doesn't know what that would do to him.

Naruto's mouth flies, he barely even knows what he's saying, but he somehow manages to convince Hari-san not to bother the Hokage with this issue for at least the weak that the landlord had promised. In the end, Hari-san stares at him with a stubborn expression, and insists that Naruto stay with him for the rest of the week, so that Hari-san doesn't worry about him freezing to death out on the streets somewhere.

Naruto has never felt warmer than when he accepts.

oOo

This is another of those things that Naruto thinks should feel strange and awkward, but it doesn't. It's different, that's for sure. But it's different in such a good way that Naruto doesn't know how it could possibly be bad. It's nice to have someone to say good morning to. It's nice to have food everyday, and no worry that it won't be there. It's nice to have someone to come home to (even if it's technically not _his_ home). It's beyond nice to have someone interested in hearing about his day, someone who listens as he babbles on about how Iruka-sensei threw a chalkboard eraser at Shikamaru and the lazy boy had somehow dodged in his sleep and the projectile hit Kiba who yelped like a dog and the beautiful and magnificent Sakura-chan had yelled at him for annoying that annoying bastard Sasuke who was really _such_ a bastard and - well. It's nice to have someone _there_.

At the end of the week, Naruto tries to go back to his apartment, the landlord throws him out again, stating that because he'd busted the pipes in his bathroom and flooded the entirety of the fourth floor, he couldn't come back yet. This makes no sense, since Naruto lives on the _third_ floor, and he hasn't even _been_ there, and no one else has left because of this "flooding", but there's nothing Naruto can do, so he grits his teeth and retreats to Hari-san's to plan how he can...well, do _something_ , though he's not sure what.

When Naruto tells Hari-san what happened, the man's eyes seem to glow ominously for a moment before he stalks out the door, telling Naruto he'll be back soon.

Soon is apparently about two hours later, as the man walks back in looking a bit annoyed, but much more relaxed than when he'd left. And, apparently, with good reason. Naruto gapes as Hari-san tells him that he had gone and talked to the Hokage, and now Naruto has an apartment in the Lark District (a mostly shinobi area of the village that was closer to the academy, and much _much_ nicer than his previous), already completely paid for, so he owns it. No one will be able to kick him out ever again.

Naruto feels tears welling in his eyes, and he quickly ducks his head and swipes at them with his sleeve, because he's _so_ happy that he's got a place of his own but he was so happy to be here, and he's not supposed to cry, he's not _weak_ , and - but then Hari-san gently presses his fingertips against the underside of his chin, guiding his face up, and he can't hide the tears that trail over whiskered cheeks. Hari-san looks at him for a moment, then tilts his head to the side with a serene smile, and tells the blonde that he can always come by anytime he needs something, whether Hari is at his restaurant or in his apartment.

And Naruto can't help himself as he shakes off the man's grip, and reaches out blindly for a hug. For a long moment, Naruto thinks he's overstepped some kind of invisible boundary, but then Hari-san is _hugging_ him. _Him_! He sniffles as tears continue to pour from his eyes, and Hari-san smells like rain and sunlight and sizzling electricity and _home_ , and Naruto gives someone a whole piece of his heart for the first time.

It doesn't feel damning, it feels like a beginning, and Naruto is so very, very glad that he found this man.

*****Break*****

A/N: First installment complete! The next is Harry's pov, which'll be a thing at some point in the future. Probably.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: That Which is Found

Summary: The first 5 meetings of blue and green, and the resulting sparks that shape their lives. Or: In which Naruto might need a bit of help, he gets more than he ever expected, and (coincidentally) Harry has always had a saving people thing, especially when it comes to children. MoD!Harry, not slash.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Naruto, they belong to their respective owners.

"Speech"

'Thought'

 **Biju or Biju-fied Naruto**

Warnings: Instances of mild child neglect/abuse, some profanity (because Harry's old enough to do as he damn well pleases XD)

A/N: I'm quite impressed by the amount of positive attention I've gotten on this little thing (or not so little now, holy shit. That's a beast of a chapter), thanks for that guys! So, I actually didn't think I was gonna get another update out anytime soon, but here ya go either way XD. I dithered over it for a while, not sure if it was actually up to snuff, but then decided to post it anyway since I wasn't sure how to improve it -_-". I actually gave myself some feels writing this bit here XD.

To prevent any confusion, Harry's magic _is_ sentient. It's more of a friend and partner at this point (because I felt sad that he didn't keep any of his friends and hey, his magic's been around long enough to gain some sentience, if you consider its age relative to Hogwarts'!), even if he does still have the majority of control over it. Also, Harry's an animagus, and there's a few hints in this chapter as to what he is. Prize to anyone who guesses right!

*****Line Break*****

1.

The first time they meet, it's early evening, he's 27, and maybe 658, and possibly even older (Death murmurs silkily into his ear, its sibilant tones whispering of eternities that he barely remembers but knows intimately, of the lives he's lived and lost in equal measures), and he's closing up his pub. Cauldron Bubble is its name, and he cooks the food fare he's loved in all the Londons he's lived in, also offering butterbeer and firewhiskey in honor of his first life (because only in the first did the wizarding world exist, but he's lived in different versions of London at least 10 times).

He's been surprised at how successful the restaurant is, considering how foreign the food must taste, but he supposes it's probably the novelty of the thing, and business will die down soon. He's only been back fire country for a couple of years, after all, and only had this restaurant open for about a month now.

He pauses in his determined swiping at a spot on his bar, rolling his eyes in slight annoyance as the wards that he's set over his building ping again (he keeps meaning to set them so that they don't alert him to every presence within their influence, from insects to people, but then he remembers battles and wars and betrayals, and he conveniently forgets to tone them down and perhaps adds more protection instead), a near-silent bell ringing in his mind. His magic pushes disjointed and confusing images his way, though he manages to make out the form of someone running, and he cockes his head in confusion.

He's not sure why anyone would want to run into his alley, since it _is_ a dead end, but perhaps the person has some abstract purpose he hasn't thought of yet for a single-entrance alley. Maybe they're there to put up some grafitti? He's not sure, but it really doesn't matter much to him (since his magic has taken up guard over the whole of his pub, suspiciously patrolling the halls and checking people as they walk about, and he doubts it will allow so much as a splash of paint to touch the building), so he returns to scrubbing the bar. He doesn't know how this ink stain got here, but if he ever finds the person who did it, he's hanging them upside down by their ankles, because this is ridiculous.

He flinches as the person-with-questionable-intent trips over one of his trash cans, and he figuratively side-eyes his sheepish magic, because (as he'd said in the first place) putting a notice-me-not charm on the garbage isn't the most efficient way to keep out rats, and is lazy and halfhearted. His magic twists in an approximation of a shrug, and he rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. He considers, for a moment, going out there and apologizing to whoever it is, but then he feels a spike of emotions, and the person dives behind one of the trashcans and pulls it in front of him. Now, Harry is concerned.

He becomes more so when four annoyingly familiar figures swagger into the alley, looking like bad villains out of a B-movie, but still threatening in their ignorant stupidity. A smug and threatening anger emanates from them, making Harry's skin prickle, and he swiftly decides that he should get involved.

He's at his door in a few quick steps, throwing it open gracefully. His eyes assess with the speed given to him by much more threatening situations than this (the sound of gunfire and bombs threatens to overwhelm him but he can't stop now he has to get his squad out, oh god where are his _legs_ ), confirming his suspicions. There's Hiroko, Sansuke, Daifoku, and Botu, four of the most unbearable assholes he's ever had the displeasure of serving, in all his years.

There's something else, though, something that tickles the edge of his senses, a panicked fluttering that reminds him that the four men came down here after his mysterious, possibly-graffiti-compelled-guest. With barely a thought, his magic flares out, gently feeling its way along the alley. He notices the blond child at the same time that his magic does, ethereal green singing gently and reaching out to wrap around the child protectively, even as he pulls it back and turns to meet frightened blue eyes.

For a heartbeat he's not even there. He's back in his first life (it may not have been the best, or the kindest, or the easiest, but it was his origin story, what made him into what he is, and he holds those memories close to his heart), blue eyes are amber as they stare up at him in fear and they beg for him to save them but he can't, he was too slow and his heart breaks as tiny limbs are splayed out on the pavement and now his little wolf is gone and it's _all his fault_ \- he blinks and pushes the memories back, his magic stroking soothingly over his mind as it curls itself around his fingers, and between one breath and the next he's back in control.

He takes a step out of the doorway, ignoring the child for now, though he does take a glance at the boy for just a moment to reassure himself that the little blonde is both unseen, and unharmed. Then he turns his attention back to the men, who are only just noticing him and raising their makeshift weapons in surprise (he scoffs internally, because those men are lucky he doesn't want them dead - yet, of course), raising a dismissive brow.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He nearly purrs, taking a step forward. "I don't suppose you have a reason for being in my alley this fine evening? Has your son demanded more of my pulled pork, Hiroko?" He asks as he turns to the first man, who has the misfortune of being the father of a child who is on Dudley Dursley's level of spoiled.

"Or perhaps, Sansuke," He says as he turns to the second man, "You are in need of my herbal services once more? Nothing to be ashamed of, everyone needs a little help getting it up now and again." He ignores the other man as he blusters awkwardly, turning to his next victim.

"And you, Daifoku, have you come to retrieve a dish for your wife?" He pauses for a moment, as though to think, then continues, "Though I must admit, the last time you came to get a pot pie for the lovely lady, your friend Botu here was notably absent from my sights, and very intimately within the sights of your wife. Perhaps you should be looking into that, rather than skulking about in my alleyway, hm?" He delivers his lines in a bland, almost placid voice, but his eyes spark a warning.

The sheepish, humiliated, angrily red, and gauntly pale men (respectively) make an abrupt about face, heading out of the alley at a healthy clip, Harry's magic chasing tauntingly after them (though no one save him can see its phantom form). Hearing an exhale of relief behind him, Harry sighs inaudibly, then turns back to face the boy, who's staring at him in terror, like he thinks Harry's about to slap him round the head (like the skinny, horse of a woman who had taught him the value of keeping silent), or box his ears for no reason at all (like the fat, walrus of a man who had taught him the value of knowing your place), or kick him while he's down (like the large, pig of a boy who had taught him the value of trust, or its lack), or worse (like the cruel, 'normal' family whose names Harry will never forget, because they forced upon him his first lessons to survive this world).

Harry considers stepping forward, showing the boy that he means no harm, talking to him, erasing that familiar look of hopelessness from his eyes - but no, now's not the time. They've only just met, there's no foundation of trust, no reason for the boy to believe he's any different from the rest of the village. He'll wait, for if his time among the living has taught him nothing else, it's taught him to be patient.

Moreover...he looks up to a nearby rooftop, where a man in a boar-faced mask sits and watches. His muscles are as relaxed now as they were when the child was threatened, not a twitch to suggest that he was preparing to aide the boy. This man doesn't wish well upon his charge. And so, Harry will wait. Regretfully, he turns himself around without sending the blonde even a parting glance, stepping back into his shop, and closing the alley door behind him, though he stands near it and watches through its shuttered window.

The little blonde waits a few minutes more, before finally scuttling from his hiding place, heading toward the red light district. Harry glares angrily at the boar-faced anbu, despite knowing that the other cannot see him, and his magic rolls angrily beneath his skin, for both he and his magic value children above all else. His magic manifests itself, a stream of pale green drifting in the air, and spiking aggressively around him. He soothes it, running his fingers through the streams, smiling as they stick to him stubbornly like cobwebs.

 _Not yet_ , he murmurs, _we must have patience_. His magic almost seems to pout for a moment before it fades from the air, settling petulantly within his core, and he takes a deep breath as he turns away from the door.

 _Patience_.

2.

The second time they meet, it's mid-afternoon, he's 28, and maybe 659, and perhaps even younger (Death laughs softly, its face contorted with petty mirth as it whispers of a boy who came of age far too early, of a child who did things even a man would flinch at, of a babe, upon whose shoulders rested the weight of the world), and he's tapping a pen idly on a notebook as he waits out the last stragglers of the lunch rush. His restaurant's gotten pretty popular lately, he's proud to say, and while it's certainly hard work, it's also very fulfilling.

He's sitting, watching as Yuma-san tries to juggle all three of her children, one clutched to her breast as the other two run amok, when his wards on the alley ping, and his magic twists and turns happily within him. It seems, he thinks with amusement as he sets down his pen, that the little blond is back.

Sure, Harry has seen the boy in the village, but never for more than a few moments at a time. It's nice to have the child back within his territory, and it soothes some of his instincts to have the boy back under his protective wing. He frowns as he steps closer to the alley door, the emotions pouring off the boy and the images his magic sends making him uneasy, for Harry never likes to see a child cry without comfort (it reminds him too much of himself, of lonely nights in his cupboard wondering why he wasn't worth the effort spent to wipe away a tear).

He steps out the side door of his restaurant into the alleyway, and the child doesn't even notice him coming (his frown deepens in displeasure, because if he were one of the vast majority of the villagers who wish to harm him, the child would be in danger, but he smooths out his expression to avoid scaring the boy), so it's easy to crouch in front of him.

The boy is taut as a wire, and becomes even more so when Harry holds out a handkerchief that he summoned in his pocket, avoiding the elder man's eye contact. Harry gently lifts the boy's chin (his magic roars in anger and disgust as he realizes that the boy is injured, and believes Harry will injure him more, but he allows none of this to show on his face, because that would break the boy's trust before he even knew whether or not he could obtain it), and his eyes soften with sadness as the boy flinches under his touch.

He strokes his fingers lightly over a deep bruise, helping the demon within the boy (and yes, he knows of it, can feel it sealed tightly within the boy in front of him, but he feels no fear or anger. Why would he? This child is only a child, and Harry has faced much worse than a chaotic-neutral demon in his time) speed the healing process along, then brushes away the tears, resisting the natural parental urge to clean the boy's dirty face (because this is more than just the dirt of a romp in the grass, or a tussle in the mud. This is the dirt of a neglected child who hasn't been properly bathed in far too long, and he should know).

Bright blue eyes slit open and meet his own, then widen with recognition, and a whole slew of other emotions that Harry doesn't need magic to read. He sees fear and wariness, which don't surprise him. He sees curiosity, which heartens him, because the boy is not yet too downtrodden to wonder. He sees a question, which saddens him, because he remembers wearing this same expression on his face the first time he received a hug from the matron of clan Weasley; the confusion as he wondered why someone was showing him compassion that he'd believed until then that he didn't deserve.

It is this expression that makes him clean the child's face, because he just looks so lost that Harry wants to keep him around longer ( _maybe forever_ something within him whispers, but he ignores it with the ease of practice). Soon enough, the dirt and tears are gone, the bruise is fading, and Harry stands. Green and blue meet again, and instead of saying anything (for what is there to say?) Harry merely pats the boy on the head (hoping that actions will speak louder than words), and heads back into his shop.

A few minutes later, his restaurant now empty as he cleans up the mess of spaghetti and macaroni that Yura-san's children left behind, he feels the wards ping again as the boy leaves. His magic stirs lightly, the floor he'd been cleaning suddenly sparkling clean under its distracted attention as it manifests itself, the pale green strands moving slowly in the direction of the boy. He reigns it in with amusement, and watches fondly as it fades. _Not yet_ , he murmurs, _we must have patience_.

He ignores the single strand of magic that escapes, following the boy and wrapping itself about his head in a manner that only Harry can see, before suffusing itself into the boy's injury, boosting his healing to visible speeds for just a moment, and removing the bruise.

He _does_ stop it when it tries to sink itself delicately into the boy's core though, pulling it back before it can do so.

 _Patience_.

3.

The third time they meet, it's too early to be morning, he's 29, and 660, and all the more weary for it (Death mutters quietly, the voice of the harbinger speaking of wars past, present, and future, of fights won and fights lost, of battles that pit brother against brother, kin against kin, and only end in hardship), and he's just finished one of the most tiring days of this life. There's a festival of some sort in town, you see, and while that means more customers and more money, it also means more bar fights to break up, more foreign money (wherein he must explain exactly why he can't take it over and over and _over_ again), and more complaining from people who've not yet gotten the memo that he's not to be trifled with.

Moreover, the festival begins at 6 in the morning, and officially ends at 2 the next morning. That, coupled with the fact that most people don't want to go home or back to their hotel right away, and getting all the drunkards out of the bars, and the clean up afterward, and don't even get him started on all the people he'd found trying to snog in the bathroom of his bar tonight because he swears - well. It's been a long day, and he's glad it's over.

So, when he feels a ping on his wards, for a moment he's annoyed, until his magic raps him lightly on the top of the head, the feeling not dissimilar to a disillusionment charm. Rubbing his head indignantly, he pauses as he realizes just who has pinged the wards, and his eyes soften with understanding, and concern. The child is back again, but it is far too late (or early) for a boy his age to be out and about, for any reason.

Moments later, the wards show him the child digging through his trash cans, and he frowns, his eyes closing in anger as his magic growls beneath his skin. Who is tasked with caring for this child? He'd like to know, so that he could give them a good kick in the arse, because they surely weren't doing their job.

He waits a few moments, because he knows the child must be starving to sink this low, even with his meagre pride, and while he'd like to give the boy a meal, the child wouldn't accept it from him yet. Don't get him wrong, he doesn't want the boy eating out of the trash, but considering that his trash is kept under a stasis charm, it's likely the best and least suspicious food he'd be able to get into the boy just now (and considering that he knows they've both had worse, Harry's sure the boy will appreciate it).

A few minutes of eating later, the boy begins to slow his frantic pace, and Harry decides to intervene. The alley door opens silently and, in the interest of not terrifying the child out of his wits, Harry allows his keys to rustle against each other as he turns his back and locks the door. He keeps the frown off his face as the child backs away from him, something like defensive shame in his eyes, before turning tail and fleeing.

He allows the frown to form as he glances around; where are the child's masked guards? Even if he has no inclination to help, any guard is better than no guard at all. He growls under his breath, and follows after the child, quickly and silently. His magic twines happily around him, and he runs his fingers through the pale green strands fondly. _Patience my friend, only until he gets home_ , he tells it, but it ignores him to dance happily and invisibly around the child's quickly moving form.

The child has traversed a long way from home, Harry thinks as they finally reach the boy's apartment building. The sun is beginning to rise by this point, and he's thankful that he hadn't been forced to reveal himself in order to protect the child further, but he's also sad that he even had to consider such a thing. After insuring that the boy is safely ensconced in his home, Harry begins to apparate away, only to find that his magic isn't feeling too cooperative.

"Now, now," he chides, more amused than surprised, "I told you it would only be until he reached his home. You know he has a life of his own, and wouldn't trust us to be included in it yet." His magic twists around his body, sheepish, but still defensive. "Come, surely you don't wish to cause him discomfort? You know as well as I that he wouldn't accept us right now. Let's go home."

His magic almost seems to sigh before suddenly he's back in his apartment. "Thank you," he murmurs, and his magic ripples through him in acknowledgement before retreating back to his core.

oOo

His next few days are split between absentmindedly running his business, cursing himself for not placing a tracking charm on the child, and soothing his magic as they wait for the boy to come back. In the anxiety filled meantime, Harry had done some of the various housework he'd been meaning to do for a while.

He'd cleaned his pub from top to bottom, because while the barkeep at the Leaky may have been content with his dusty tavern, Harry never could be (yet another lesson from his family, one that he wishes he'd gone without, but is still better for). He'd built and charmed that basement he'd been meaning to install for the longest time, so that he now has more storage space for the excess food that he cooks in a day.

He'd finally placed the proper wards on all parts of his alley; the entire thing is under a notice me not charm (though the child is, of course, always welcome), the trash cans are under normal pest and unlockable wards, and the window is spelled to be one way sight only. Really, he's run out of things to do other than bite his nails and wait.

By the end of night three (he hasn't slept in over 75 hours, but he's been through worse, so that's okay), Harry is on the verge of taking food over to the boy himself, regardless of how he'd be received, when the wards on his alley ping again, his magic wriggling with glee as he shoots over to the alley door's window to peer anxiously out.

The child is here again, wary as ever, but somehow more cheerful. Harry watches him struggle with opening the trash cans, green eyes looking on sadly as the boy's expression darkens and his whole posture droops when he's unable to open them, but he's still unwilling to show himself for fear of scaring the boy off.

He almost cheers when, finally, the boy notices the bowl of food he'd left him; a hearty beef stew, with a flavorless nutrient potion (he'd brewed it himself, as it was fortunately one of the few recipes he'd actually memorized in his first life) in it. This won't do much to help the boy's long time malnutrition, but it's a start.

The boy stares at the bowl for a while, and Harry's magic, impatient as ever, reaches out and knocks something over at the end of the alley, prompting the boy to flee with the bowl. Harry runs his fingers through it scoldingly, fond amusement in his eyes, and his magic purrs under his touch. Finally, something is going right.

oOo

The next day as he's seated at a table, scribbling out a recipe, he jolts as the wards alert him to a presence. He concerned, because why would the wards ping again so soon after the first time? He'd looked in on the boy and made sure he had food, so why was he here? Is he hurt? Does he need help? Was the food not to his liking? The emotions he's sensing don't seem to be negative, but still...Harry stands to look, but by the time he gets to the door, the boy is gone again. He steps out anyway, wondering, and his eyes catch on something bright orange.

He turns to it, finding that his white bowl is now sloppily painted in the most obnoxious and amusing shade of orange he's ever seen in his entire life. Considering the emotions involved, this is, most likely, meant to be a good thing. A thank you, even. And his magic agrees, joyfully looping itself around the bowl, and imprinting itself in the form of a wide green ring.

He keeps the bowl in his kitchen, checks it every morning, noon, and evening to make sure that it hasn't been emptied, and refills it each time he finds it without food. His magic takes care of the rest, keeping the food in a stasis so that it doesn't go bad, and is awaiting the child when he needs it. Harry knows what it's like to be hungry, and he's unwilling to leave a child ( _this child_ , Death whispers caustically, but he ignores it) to the hunger if he can save him.

4.

The fourth time they meet, it's early afternoon, he's 30, and 661, the naivety of his youth replaced with the jadedness of age (Death hisses coldly in his ear, reminding him of betrayals suffered and trust lost, because even now it knows his future more intimately than he himself, and it knows that he's begun to fall again even when he hasn't realized it), and he's once again taking out the trash. He doesn't realize, at first, that it's a Thursday, not until he absentmindedly opens the dumpster, already considering the merits of using some of Konoha's native fruits to create some kind of pineapple upside down cake.

He's about to toss a trash bag into the dumpster, when a quiet sound interrupts his thoughts. He blinks himself back into focus, and peers under the lid to see an unexpected, but not unwelcome sight. He has, evidently, caught the child in the midst of some kind of prank (his magic dances happily under his skin, and he absently reigns it in before it can do anything too noticeable), and...yes, the sound of people yelling in exasperated anger only supports this.

He stares down at the boy in amusement, his calm green eyes meeting relieved blue ones, then (in order to move the conversation along, because he doubts the child will speak first) he states, "Ah, you must be why the ANBU are running around so frantically." The boy falls to the base of the dumpster, and his magic frantically cushions the impact, amusing him (because it was a fall of mere inches, the child surely wouldn't have suffered any injury), and concerning him (because neither he, nor his magic, had even considered _not_ stopping the boy's fall) in equal measure.

Before he can think on it further, the boy is leaping up and pointing at him, yelling "Hey, how come ya think this's my fault! Could be anything, really!" He raises an eyebrow in amusement, though that fades some as the boy cringes, and his face pales.

His own face softens, because he knows exactly what's going through the boy's head. He'd gone through the same thing when, during his fifth year while he'd been with the Weasleys at the burrow, he'd snapped at Molly (well and truly stuck in his angsty teenage phase, he could admit it with amusement now), and she'd raised an eyebrow at _his_ behavior. He'd reacted in the same way as the child is doing now, though Mrs. Weasley hadn't understood yet just how much she meant to him (completely ignorant of his family history).

The best thing to do in this situation, though, is to smooth over the moment before it stretches too long, so he merely replies, "The bright orange of the paint and feathers they're covered in was a pretty good clue."

The child's face turns ecstatic, and he yells out again, this time saying, "Hey, who are you anyway?" Harry's magic spins dizzily about the boy at his enthusiasm, and Harry pauses for a second to observe it, because he's honestly never seen it act like this before.

He raises the other eyebrow, heavy thoughts suppressed in his mirth, and replies, "I'm the owner of this restaurant, who's dumpster you're inhabiting." The boy pouts for a moment, and Harry reaches into the dumpster to lift him, his magic lifting the boy from beneath so that he feels light as a feather, before setting him on the ground gently and continuing, "But my name is Harry. Nice to meet you."

The boy is surprised again, and Harry understands. This is, he thinks, somewhat similar to his first introduction to the wizarding world. After being told his whole life that he was worthless baggage, it was a shock when people had come to him, excited to meet him. Sure, the novelty had worn off when they expected him to solve their problems, but still. It had been nice.

His melancholy fades as the child shakes off the surprise, and yells out, "I'm Uzumaki Naruto, and I'm going to be Hokage, dattebayo!"

Harry winces, raising his hand to his ear and using his pinkie to reduce the ache that's suddenly sprung up in one of his eardrums, his magic coming to his rescue as it spins quickly around his head, then flows soothingly over his abused ear. One of the bad things about being an animagus, his senses are better than the average human's, so he sees, smells, and hears much more than most people, an unfortunate thing in these circumstances. "Lower the volume a bit, kid, I've got sensitive ears."

He notices the boy seemingly ashamed and he winces internally, because he didn't mean to make the kid feel bad; it's not like it's his fault that Harry's got more sensitive ears than the lion's share of people the child will meet in the future. As he's frantically trying to figure out some way to fix his blunder, he considers what the boy had said before he'd scolded him.

This one dreams big, though he can't say that the boy doesn't have some potential. He's seen him around; he's sneaky, and has a sense of balance that it takes years for most people to gain. He's got some of the survival skills that his fellows may never learn (for better or worse). The boy's got a good chance, and the pedigree to match (as the son of a hokage, and the technical prince of a nation to boot, he's got a good head start).

So he reaches out a hand, ruffling blond spikes, and moving back as the kid looks up. "Hokage, huh?" he says, the words so reminiscent of a life lost that he almost chokes on them, "Well, if anyone can do it, it's you kid. Good luck." He turns away before the boy can see the tears in his eyes (he doesn't want the boy to think they're directed at him, because they're not, it's just that he remembers saying the same thing to another orphan in another time in another world and he misses his baby _so goddamn much it hurts_ ), walking back into his restaurant.

His magic alerts him as the boy leaves, curling itself about him in a comforting way and wiping the tears from his eyes. And if he spends the rest of the day burying himself in his work, and jerks awake that night with a nightmare in his mind and a scream on his lips, well. That's no one's business but his own.

5.

The fifth time they meet, it's almost midnight, he's 31, and 662, and maybe he's in over his head (Death speaks almost chidingly in his ear, scolding him for his selflessness when it will only hurt him in the end, but for once he ignores the androgynous voice because he's made his choice), and he's finally finished with a long day at work. And a truly long day it has been, not only because of the work itself, but also because his magic has been rolling under his skin all day, wary of something. As neither of them can figure out exactly what there is to be wary of, it's made him irritable and prone to mistakes. His magic has stuck close to his skin today, concerned about an attack, and he hasn't had the heart to force it away.

Regardless, when he steps out of his shop and begins the walk home, his magic wrapped tightly around him and even the cold unable to touch him, he only has a moment to wonder what had ruffled his feathers so, and given him and his magic such a horrible feeling of foreboding, before it presents itself.

It's nothing more than a tiny sound, a bit of breath, maybe a gasp, but with him and his magic already tensed for something (anything, everything, but never enough), it only takes him a scant moment to whip around, his hand plunging into his pocket for his wand, a spell already on his lips. What he sees freezes him more than the cold around him ever could. The child is sitting, his lips near-purple with cold, eyelashes and hair dusted with snow, skin pale and tinted blue.

He immediately rushes over, cursing in several languages as he picks the boy up, his magic looping around them fretfully before focusing on the boy and beginning to warm him up. The child curls closer to him, and he presses the boy close to his chest, as he rubs his back soothingly and begins walking toward the hospital, muttering the few diagnostic charms he knows as he goes.

He wishes, not for the first time, that he had bothered to learn more about healing in his first life. With other subjects, it doesn't matter whether he just goes at things with brute force (for the most part, at least), but with healing he literally can't without risking people's lives. So yes, he curses himself for not being more pragmatic in his first life (little though he knew it would only be one of many).

"You're going to be okay, child." He murmurs, his magic wrapped tightly around the boy as it tries to slowly bring him back to proper temperature. He closes his eyes for a moment, concentrating some of his attention on his magic to give it a boost, even as he walks faster. Slightly louder, he says, "I'm going to take you to the hospital, Naruto." hoping for some kind of reaction. Upon hearing his name, the boy's eyes flicker open, focusing on his own, and his mouth opens as though to ask a question, though nothing but misty air escapes.

"I'm taking you to the hospital, Naruto." He repeats, and the boy's eyes begin to close, so he turns his walk to a jog, looking ahead as he rushes along. He pauses though, as the boy tangles his fingers in the front of his apron, gaining his attention. Harry looks down at him, concerned that the boy is in pain, or struggling to breathe too much (oh god he's going to lose another one), but stops moving completely as the boy speaks, wanting to hear his faint words. "P-please don't t-t-take me there," the boy stutters out, his eyes wide with fear, "Th-they'll k-k-kill me, or h-hurt me again or g-give me t-t-to the rest of the v-village, d-don't take me -" the boy trails off here, only curling further in on himself as he stares up at Harry, desperate blue clashing with stunned green.

Harry is shocked for a moment, then his eyes light with a fury that has seen the end of ages, his magic boiling the air around him for a moment as he struggles to reign himself in. Rarely has he ever been this furious, this out of control (but this reminds him so much of himself and he will _never_ leave another child to live his life if he can help it), and he has to get himself under control before he hurts the child (because he knows if he hurt _this_ child, it would break them both) - his magic washes over him like a tidal wave of cold water, dousing his rage for a moment. He pants, his limbs trembling with forced calm, then turns and starts heading toward his house, now running in earnest.

The boy is starting to go limp in his arms, eyes only slightly open, and he begs, "Stay awake, Naruto, please. Just stay awake," but the boy is out like a light. He stops, stares, then spins on the spot, apparating jerkily into his flat. He places the boy delicately on the guest bed, his wand already in his hand and casting even more diagnostic charms and gentle heating charms as his magic reaches out and summons various potions off the shelf.

A pepper-up adds some color to the boy's face, but that won't be enough, and he has little to no knowledge of what he's supposed to do. Desperately, he allows some of his magic to sink into the boy's skin, hoping beyond hope that the fox sealed within the boy will, with some help, be able to save him. He knows not what the consequences will be for this, but he also knows he doesn't care. He won't allow Death to take another from him, not this one.

(Death shakes its head at its foolish Master, but says no more. As he has made his choice, it has been forced to do so as well.)

oOo

He keeps vigil over the boy for hours, re-adjusting the blankets around the child, and fretfully sweeping the boy's hair back from his forehead as he sweats and chills in equal turns. Sometime around 3 in the morning ( _witching hour_ , some corner of his mind whispers), he jerks to his feet, glaring at the spectral form of Death that lurks in the corner of the room. "You will not take him." He growls, shifting himself to stand between Death and the child (because he may not have admitted it yet, not even to himself, but this one is _his_ ).

Death stares at him, fathomless black eyes peering from under its black hood, then it chuckles lightly, the sound empty of all humor, and devoid of all life (and feminine, but Harry has stopped being in any way surprised by the different forms Death takes during its visits). "Oh Master, my Master, would that I were, would that I was, would that I am, do you think you could stop me in my task? You may be my Master, but Death is inexorable, inflexible, ineluctable," she pauses for a moment, then grins and murmurs, "Inescapable."

He snarls, the sound more beast than human, and crouches, ready to attack. She will not take this child from him, not now. Not before the boy's time (and in some corner of his mind, he wonders why this one is so different. What makes him so special that Harry is willing to fight Death for his life? He doesn't know).

She laughs, the sound like rushing rivers and falling tides, and he growls low in his throat as she takes a step closer. The barest hint of a heartbeat later and she's between him and his charge, leaning over the boy, a hand hovering over his stomach. The growl bubbling in his throat turns to a roar as he flings himself toward her, but he's stopped by a barrier, by his own magic.

He pauses, and can't stop the choked whine that struggles from his throat, because even when he had nothing he had his magic, and it's betraying him? Now? Over this? The hurt batters the inside of his chest like a heartbeat, but his magic wraps soothingly around him, even as he presses himself against the barrier and tries to get closer to the ( _his_ ) child. Death's hand lowers slightly and the boy's breathing stutters and Harry doesn't know if he can survive through another loss like this. " _Please_ ," he whispers, his voice full of rage and sadness and desperation and pain and he doesn't know if he's talking to Death, his magic, himself, or the child, but no one answers.

Death is leaning, motionless, but then she seems to shake herself as she stands, turning back to Harry, who is still crouched, glaring daggers at her from the floor. The child's breathing regains its proper rhythm, and something inside him relaxes. "Oh, foolish Master, never did I come to harm, to take, to steal, but only perhaps, to warn." She kneels in front of him, still prudently on the other side of the barrier, head bowed, and murmurs, "I came only to observe, to see my Master's chosen, but I've found something you should know. The beast within him stirs closer to the surface than one might like, and it is only half of what it should be."

She tilts her head to the side, then asks mockingly, "Now, where could the other half be? Perhaps you should be more worried about this than little old me." She laughs again, then between one blink and the next she's gone, and Harry's falling through the space where the barrier once was, his magic curling about him apologetically as he frantically looks the child over.

He can find nothing wrong, but that won't stop him from continuing his vigil over the child until he begins to awaken, upon which time Harry promptly flees for the kitchen to scare up some breakfast, because the boy will want food (and not because he's afraid of the child's reaction to his presence, certainly not).

oOo

His magic tracks the boy as he makes his way out of the bedroom and down the stairs, which Harry is thankful for because, considering how frazzled he's feeling over the whole Death thing, he might not have noticed the child trying to escape. As it is, he manages to stop the boy before he can flee, calling to him in the most non-threatening manner he can manage.

At this point, he doesn't need magic to hear the boy slink in and sit down at the table. Once he's seated, Harry gives him a few moments to acclimate himself to the idea of breakfast, before speaking up, looking back toward the child as he does so. The boy is staring at a container of whipped cream like it's about to bite him, but Harry hides his amusement and says, "I wasn't sure what you like, so I kinda just made everything." The boy stares at him with wide eyes, filled with confusion and a bit of trepidation, so he merely turns back toward the stove to finish cooking.

The eggs are the last thing to come out of the pan, and he and his magic work easily in tandem to transfer a bit of all the foods to both of the plates. He looks it over and, satisfied with what he's made, he turns back to the table, his arms laden with the morning's spread. The boy looks over it all with wide eyes, and he can almost hear the question. He shoves away any sadness he feels at the boy's wariness, only allowing himself to show amusement as he explains the foreign breakfast foods to the boy, then sits himself down across from the child to eat.

He's glad that the child doesn't have any adverse reaction to his presence, because that would be awkward (and, honestly, it would hurt), but concerned when the child doesn't start eating. Harry makes eye contact, then glances at the plate, then glances back up questioningly; is the food not to the boy's liking? Realization seems to fill the boy's eyes, and he picks up his fork, mumbling something under his breath before digging in. The child gets a little teary eyed at one point, Harry's magic spinning about in rapid, dizzying concern and rustling the curtains a bit, but they get through the meal okay.

After they're done eating, Harry grabs the newspaper that his magic must've retrieved from outside, and begins reading it, though more to give the boy a cover to escape if he wishes (though Harry seriously doubts that) than out of actual interest. The boy seems to have no inclination to leave yet, though, merely leaning back in his chair and looking around him with glazed, sleepy eyes. Harry thinks it's adorable.

Eventually, Harry sets his paper down with a sigh, because he's done all he can to delay the impending conversation. His mug is empty, and he's read all the articles in the newspaper in their entirety, including that one about the scandal of Fire Country's best model getting pregnant during the contest of the year, and being disqualified. Obviously, he's still not gotten any better at avoiding his problems.

The boy has noticed the change in atmosphere and is looking around nervously, so Harry looks at him sternly (an expression he'd learned from many years of teaching and parenting his own children - but he won't think about any of them now) to dissuade the idea that he can run now.

"Naruto," he says, not child or boy or kid, because now is not the time for generalizations and blanket terms, now is time for the individualism of names; it seems insignificant but it's not (not to someone who's had their name taken from them again and again and replaced with something _wrong_ ), "Why were you outside my restaurant in the middle of the night, in the dead of winter?"

The child's face goes blank, but Harry understands, and Harry remembers. He remembers Minerva gently pulling him aside after transfiguration in his first year, and asking him why his clothes were so ragged. He'd waved her off, citing that because of a recent growth spurt his relatives had had to give him some of his older cousin's clothes, and she'd never asked again (relieved that he was doing alright, that she'd been wrong about the Dursleys after all, but he wasn't alright, and Minerva should've saved him).

He remembers Remus asking him, while they were practicing the patronus during his third year, why he had so much trouble finding a happy enough memory to create a patronus. He'd defensively replied that the patronus was a hard spell, wasn't it? Remus had said it himself, and it wasn't the lack of happy memories, it was just difficult, and Remus had never asked again (because of course it was just the difficulty of the spell, Harry had had a good life without the older man being involved - but it wasn't, and he hadn't, and Remus should've saved him).

He remembers Sirius (of all people, Sirius, but he supposes that the man had cared for Harry more than himself) commenting once that he was too skinny, concern in his eyes as he told him that his father had been much taller and bulkier than he was. He had then asked if his mother had also been "large" and whether or not she'd appreciate being called fat and short, and the thread of conversation was lost amid joking and laughter (it wasn't really Sirius's fault that Azkaban had affected him so, and that he forgot things with so much ease, but Harry _was_ too skinny, and too short, and Sirius should've saved him).

And he remembers creeping back to the Burrow in the middle of the night. It'd been a few months after the war's end, and while Ron and Hermione had gone off to begin living their new life together, Harry had been left behind. It wasn't all bad, he was glad to no longer walk in on them doing the horizontal tango, but still, it'd been a bit lonely. Mrs. Weasley had offered him a place at the Burrow, considering that he didn't have anywhere to live now (he wouldn't go back to the Dursleys if his life depended on it, and the tent had far too many bad memories attached to it for him to ever be comfortable in it, or another, again).

Regardless, he was coming back from Auror training, because that's what he was gonna be, and he was nowhere near good enough yet to become one. He had to get stronger, fast, so that he could protect everyone from everything, because otherwise, what was his purpose?

He'd limped in, ankle badly sprained (it'd been a break, but then it was reduced to little more than an ache, really), a bruise on his throat (strangulation curse, but they'd broken it once he was unconscious), and a cut over his left eye (it wouldn't scar, but it was still oozing out blood, because head wounds bleed a lot), expecting to make his way up to Ron's room and collapse on the bed into a dead sleep until his alarm woke him at 5, like he'd been doing for the past three weeks.

He'd not been anticipating Molly, sitting in her favorite rocking chair, knitting a sweater by hand as she waited for his return. He'd lowered his wand, hastily apologizing for instinctively pointing it her way, but she hadn't even acknowledged that as she stood, and stopped in front of him, then looked him up and down slowly. He'd stood in front of her, feeling chastised even if he didn't know what she was going to say.

He'd blinked slowly and offered her a sheepish (tired) smile, and suddenly she was hugging him and he felt like a child (for once), his head tucked in the crook of her neck as he hugged her back. "Why do you care so little for yourself?" she'd asked fiercely, her voice choked with tears. And he couldn't lie to her, never to her, not to the woman who'd loved him, taken him in, treated him as one of her own, who he'd stolen two children from and God did he wish every day that he could somehow get them back for her because it was _all his fault_ \- his response came out muffled, buried in her neck as he was, but her eyes clenched shut as he replied, "Because they always taught me I wasn't worth caring for" (and she understood. The next day he'd showed up for training, and they'd told him to take a week off, and he'd apparated home and started ranting and raging about not being able to protect people and not being good enough, but whether he'd admitted it then or not, _she_ had been the one to finally save him).

So yes, he truly does understand. That's why he sits through the child's excuse, unrealistic though it may be, and only interrupts when he tries to leave. "Naruto," he says, and the boy freezes before ducking his head guiltily. "Your key was in the pocket of your jacket, which you almost left behind in my washing machine, by the way." He stands, pushing his chair away from the table as he goes. "Your landlord was in my restaurant two days ago, brash, blunt, and rude as usual, complaining about the delivery service." He rounds the table. "And it's Saturday morning, there's no school today." His hand hovers for a moment before he finally sets it lightly on the boy's shoulder, but the boy still flinches hard as he whirls around to face him, face pale and blue eyes wide with panic.

The boy opens his mouth, and Harry cuts him off before he can speak (because with that kind of expression, he knows that nothing he says will be truth), kneeling in front of him. "Please tell me the truth. I only want to help you." He murmurs, and he waits. He knows that this is the turning point. Naruto will either tell him another excuse and leave, his fear overcoming his desire to risk himself for something newer and possibly better, or the boy will tell him the truth, and they will go forth on a new path. He's not sure which will happen, but he knows which result he's rooting for -

"He kicked me out and I didn't know where else to go." The child mumbles, his worn down shoes scuffing the ground lightly in a nervous gesture. Harry listens as the boy tells him about how his landlord is a mean bastard and has changed the locks before, and usually the ANBU would help him but none are there tonight, and Harry closes his eyes in frustration, because for once this situation wasn't completely through intentional maliciousness.

From what he'd heard, there'd been a major security breach in the T&I, and all the village's ninja were were being run ragged trying to keep up with the image of a strong Konoha, the ANBU being no exception. Some of the masked ninja have been temporarily demoted to chunnin, required as bulk to make Konoha's ranks seem more substantial than they are, while others have been taking double the normal load of their station in order to keep up with mission input. Naruto had just been forgotten amidst all the action. That's no excuse, really, not for this, but at least he knows what's what now. And he's damn well going to fix it.

He stands from his place in front of the boy, raising a hand to the bridge of his nose (and he notices how the child stifles a flinch, and he's so sad for a moment that it takes his breath away), and he mutters, "I know that Hiruzen has been the Hokage for far too long when he forgets his pseudo grandson for management poppycock." He looks up when the child makes a strangled noise, his eyes taking the boy in as he pales for a moment.

Concerned, Harry opens his mouth to ask, but then Naruto says, "You don't need to get the old man involved in this yet, right? I mean, my landlord said he'd let me back in after a week and that's better than some of the other times this has happened, so you don't need to bring Jiji in yet, dattebayo?" And Harry is honestly on the verge of refusing (let the man be crushed under the weight of his negligence, let him _suffer_ , how dare that old fool leave him with the Dursleys when he knew damn well what he was going through, every strike of fist on delicate flesh, every lash of a belt, every time he near bit through his own lip to keep from screaming, it was _all that man's fault_ ), but then Naruto gives him a pleading expression with desperate blue eyes and his mouth moves on its own as he sighs and states, "Okay."

Naruto's face is ecstatic for a moment, then Harry continues, his expression unyielding, "But," the boy's face is both nervous and resigned, until Harry continues and states, "You have to stay with me for the next week. Merlin knows what could happen if you don't, and I really don't want to be worrying about whether or not you've frozen to death out on the streets somewhere."

The child stares at him as though the sun shines from his face, then sends him a beaming grin. Harry has to stop himself from pulling the little blonde into a hug.

oOo

Harry loves having the boy living with him. He hadn't realized how much he missed having children until now, though the blonde's happy voice cheerfully telling him about his day is bringing back feelings that he's not altogether comfortable dealing with. He works through it, even if he has more nightmares in that one week than he's had in the entirety of the last year. That's okay though, it's well worth it.

The end of the week comes sooner than he's happy with, and he sends the child off home with a couple of bentos and a request (only a request, because he doesn't want to overstep his bounds) to come back if anything goes wrong. Of course, he only lasts for mere minutes after the child's absence before he's already worrying about him. What if his landlord doesn't let him back in? What if the man hurts him? What if everything goes well, but he doesn't come back, ever? He spends a few hours working himself into a tizzy, then there's a knock on his door. He near flies to it, and finds the child standing there with a sheepish (fragile) smile.

The boy tells him that, apparently, his landlord was keeping him out longer because of some ridiculous 'flooding' that clearly isn't the boy's fault, if it even exists at all. His magic swirls around him dangerously for a moment before he strides angrily out the door, calling over his shoulder that he'll be back soon (though he closes it gently on his way out since he knows he never liked it when people slammed doors around him, because it reminded him too much of his Uncle's tendency to slam things ( _him_ ) around when he got angry).

It's the work of about 20 minutes of walking to reach the Hokage's tower, and he stands outside of it for a moment, trying to calm himself. It works, somewhat, his magic rustling soothingly through his hair (it whispers quietly in his mind, promising death to their enemies, and while that sates his appetite for havoc somewhat, it doesn't exactly make him calmer), and he takes a deep breath before entering the tower, walking past a few empty desks and up a flight or two of stairs before he finally reaches the short hallway he's headed for.

He's not quite at the point where his patience is shot, so he stops at the secretary's desk (purely out of courtesy that the old man probably doesn't deserve). "Excuse me, but I need to speak to the Hokage." He says smoothly, the silkiness of his voice very similar to a certain potions professor ( _Look at me,_ he says, his eyes pleading and shining with tears, and Harry doesn't look away until the light leaves his eyes, tears falling down sallow cheeks, and something in him breaks) at his most irritable.

The green haired secretary looks up from her novel, now alerted to his presence, and frowns at him. "I'm sorry sir, do you have an appointment?" She asks, sounding bored and not particularly sorry, and he internally takes a deep breath.

"No. But I do need to see the Hokage, as soon as possible." His voice is colder now, but she doesn't seem to notice the change (which is almost funny to him, because he remembers lives where people would, quite literally, flee before him if he were in this sort of a mood. But, he supposes, this woman wouldn't know that).

She looks him up and down doubtfully, then says with an expression that's not quite a smirk and not quite a sneer but something even more rude for its in betweenness, "Sorry, sir. No appointment, no meeting. If you'd like to set an appointment, Mori-san by the entrance can help you with that." Then she looks back down to her novel, dismissing his presence.

He breathes deeply, then lets it out through his nose. It comes out in a rush of superheated air, because he's literally so angry right now that it's burning him up from the inside, but the woman doesn't see the slight ripple in the air, because she's so focused on her _stupid book_. "If you'll tell him that Kodai is here to see him, I'd appreciate it." He murmurs politely, and the woman looks up from her book again and she has no idea that he kind of wants kill her right now.

She merely stares at him for a moment more, making no motion to move, either to look back at her book or get the Hokage's attention. Harry has, at this point, damn near lost his patience entirely, and his eyes are beginning to darken with annoyance. His magic, as always, much more impatient than he, casts a mild confundus charm on the secretary. He reprimands it halfheartedly as he watches the woman hazily get off her lazy arse, and poke her head in the fancy office doors.

"Hokage-sama, a visitor to see you." She says, her tone bored, "He says his name is Kodai?" Harry can't hear the Hokage's end of the conversation (he assumes there are seals to prevent it, but he can't be sure), but he nearly smirks as the secretary visibly stiffens, and says, "Sir, you have that meeting in a few - yes, sir." She turns back around to Harry with a sniff, and he suppresses a growl. "Hokage-sama will see you now." She mutters, and he gifts her with a toothy smile that makes her pale, before striding past her into the Hokage's office.

He doesn't immediately look to the other man, first glancing about the office in a slow, contemplative manner. It's been awhile since he was last here, and it's odd to see the changes that the Yondaime wrought retreat to their origins in the face of his death (a metaphor that applies to the progress the fourth had made as well - but that's not why he's here). He turns slowly to face the older looking man, who has patiently sat, puffing his pipe and waiting.

"Hiruzen," he says, rage coiled in his voice and ready to spring if he gets the wrong answer, and despite himself the Hokage straightens slightly, "I've a few questions to ask you."

The Third spreads his hands wide, and replies, "I'm at your service." It's not quite mocking, but Harry still feels the sting, and his left hand twitches with the desire to do - well, he's not quite sure yet, but it would alleviate some of his destructive anger, and the Hokage probably wouldn't survive. Closing his eyes, he evens out his breathing, then re-opens them to glare coldly at the other man.

"What would you call it, if a man charges an extra tax on goods?" He asks, taking a few steps further into the office, and looking casually over the portraits on the wall. The older man's face is emotionless, but Harry's magic can sense his confusion and wariness, and it wraps itself spitefully about his neck, an intangible, but very real threat.

"Unlawful, I suppose." He offers, and Harry nods calmly, his eyes hard.

"Good, good. Now, what would you call it if a man," Here he pauses to pick up a scroll that is on one of the Hokage's side tables, just to keep his hands busy with something other than murder, "Willfully allows something he's supposed to be guarding to take damage at enemy hands?"

The Hokage is watching him carefully as he sets the scroll down and continues his casual circuit of the room, but he replies easily enough, "I would call it a dereliction of duty, with a demotion in this hypothetical man's near future." Harry's back is to the Sandaime at that moment, which is probably good because that means that when his eyes flash with killing intent for a moment before he's able to get it back under wraps, the other man can't see it."Hypothetical indeed." He murmurs near silently, his magic mockingly pulling taut as though to garot the other man, but still not touching him. "Now, what would you call it, if a landlord keeps his patrons from entering their home for a week, for no reason other than personal bias?" His eyes are hard as flint.

The Sandaime's eyes darken in visible confusion, but he still responds. "I'd call it cruel, at the least, but moreover I'd call it illegal."

"Yes, of course! You're absolutely correct." Harry says with false enthusiasm, adding in a single sarcastic clap as he finally comes to stand in front of the Hokage's desk. He leans in close, hands flat on the wood in front of him. "So riddle me this, _Hiruzen_ ," the name a snarl more than it is words, "Why did I find Naruto Uzumaki, taxed extra for food, in danger with one of his supposed _guards_ (he spits the word as though it did him wrong) standing calmly by, and locked out of his home in the dead of winter?"

The older man seems to crumple into himself for a moment, actually removing his pipe from his mouth to set it on the desk and rub his temples with both hands. He is the absolute picture of a man past his prime, of a man who is being pulled deep underwater by the weight of his mistakes tethered to his ankles, but Harry can't bring himself to feel a single bit of sympathy when this man's mistakes have hurt a ( _his_ some part of him shrieks with rage, but he ignores it) child. "I'm waiting for an answer, Hiruzen." He says coldly, "And I hope it's a good one. For your sake."

The Hokage's hands drop from his temples, and he stares back at Harry, eyes shuttered with caution, but back under control. After a moment, he states, "You know what he holds within him."

Harry snorts. "Of course I do, Hiruzen, probably better than you do. I was a very intimate part of the sealing, after all." The man stiffens, and Harry has to stop the animalistic part of him from pouncing at the obvious show of weakness.

A moment passes, and the man goes on. "The entirety of Konohagakure knows what the boy holds in his body -" The man cuts himself off as everything seems to, for just a moment, jolt, as though someone has taken hold of the very fabric of the realm and _yanked_ , and Harry's fingers twitch with violence, though they soon smooth back onto the desk.

"That _boy_ ," he hisses sibilantly, leaning close enough that he can smell the smoke on the other man's breath, "Has a name. And I'd appreciate it if you use it." (because even after all this time, that term still has some negative connotations with it).

The Hokage inclines his head carefully, then continues as Harry pulls the tattered remains of his self-restraint back to himself, and takes a deep breath. "The village knows what Naruto contains, but not the intricacies behind it. They don't know how to tell the boy from the demon within. And I? My hands are tied. If I try to lean on them anymore than I have, it will be seen as favoritism. And if they connect a blonde haired, blue eyed child, the very likeness of our late Fourth to me? That would break the thin seal we have keeping that information under wraps." the man shakes his head in frustration. "This is all that I can do."

Harry stands motionless for a moment before he finally takes a deep breath, removing his hands from the desk and lacing them behind his back (and neither he nor Hiruzen acknowledge the handprints burnt into the intricate designs etched into the wood, the only remaining sign of his momentary lapse in control). "While your hands may be tied, the validity of which I doubt," The Sandaime's mouth opens to speak, and Harry raises his own voice (because anything the other man says to defend himself will probably push him over the edge), "Mine are not." The Hokage's mouth snaps shut over whatever obstinate disagreement he was going to voice.

Harry's eyes lift from the ground, where he'd focused them to avoid gutting the man in front of him. "An apartment. The Lark District should suffice, and Aika-san just moved out of her apartment to live with her partner. I will pay for it's purchase, I will pay to keep it well stocked, and I will pay the bills until the child can pay them himself." He glares into the other man's shocked eyes, daring him to question, or refuse him.

The Hokage merely waves a hand, and one of the presences in the office disappears to do his bidding. A moment of concentration proves that it's Cougar, one of the few ANBU who seems to actually care for Naruto, so it will be done, and done properly. Still, Harry snaps off a compulsion charm, and feels the ANBU speed up slightly.

His business done, he turns to leave, his tense shoulders relaxing slightly. Then Hiruzen's voice comes from behind him, asking, "You do all this, for a child you barely know. Are you truly doing this for Naruto? Or are you really doing this for Te - " Harry snarls, and some of his control over his magic is loosed. Papers go flying and a breeze blows, quickly gaining strength, because Harry had told the man never to mention Him, He'd died long before Hiruzen's time had even begun and he has no right to sully His name with his tongue - the Hokage's grip on his pipe tightens, but he says nothing further.

Probably for the best, elsewise he'd be dead, regardless of who he is to this village. Harry calms himself incrementally, and releases the doorframe he's grabbed, it creaking dangerously as he does so. He turns slightly, rage-darkened, slit pupil eyes looking at the other man over his shoulder, and replies, "I'm doing this for the living, not the dead. Perhaps you should do the same." The Hokage flinches around his eyes and bows his head, and Harry leaves (distinctly not thinking of children and blood flooding the streets and all that he's lost, and Death shakes its head with a cold chuckle because he's never been good at lying to himself).

oOo

When he returns to the child, his anger has had time to simmer, and he's managed to get a lid on it. The little blonde's astonishment hurts him more than it amuses him, and the tears the boy tries to hide near break his heart. "I hope this pleases you, child. Why the tears?" The boy doesn't answer him, and he's not sure that the blonde even heard him, so he touches the boy's chin gently. After getting the boy's attention, he smiles tenderly at him, and says, "Child, you can always come back. I'll always be here, unless I'm at my restaurant, and you can visit me at either place, at any time."

The boy shakes his hand off, and he wonders if he gave him too much too fast, but then the boy is reaching out, arms wide, for a hug. For a moment, Harry thinks of turquoise hair and amber eyes and a life that was cut short far, far too early, and he begins to doubt himself (because he's always been too selfish, and is he stuck in the past with his son? He doesn't _know_ ), but then blonde hair and blue eyes fill his vision, and he knows for sure.

As he returns the hug, all he can think of is this child, this one right here in his arms. He's not forgetting his godson (his Teddy, his little wolf, his _baby_ ; he'd had only 11 years with him, then he was _gone_ ), but gaining a new child, who will have an altogether different place in his heart. He hugs the boy ( _his_ boy, something murmurs with satisfaction, and he doesn't silence it, and he never will again) to his chest, burying his face in his hair. The child smells like soap and wind and fox and _his_.

And if a few tears escape, well that's okay, because he's just found something he'd stopped looking for long ago, something he'd thought was lost forever, and he's so very, very glad that he found this child.

*****Line Break*****

A/N: Holy shit this was so long. Damn. Anyway, I'm _really_ enjoying writing, so you can expect another chapter sometime in the future. I've already got it outlined; it's the next 10 meetings between these two, leading up to the end of Naruto. I may go into Naruto Shippuden at some point, but...eh, we'll see how I feel by then. If their 10 meetings thing gets too long, I'll split it into 5 per chapter instead. Regardless, thanks for your patronage, all!

(as a side note, does anyone know why ff.n deletes double dashes? I don't like it D: )


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own no things.

Warnings: None. Also, this isn't Harry/Naruto slash, which should be fairly obvious, but...thought I'd reiterate.

A/N: 'Lo! It's been a year since I updated, I'm trash! XD There's a few _really_ minor crossovers, just mentions of people that he met in other worlds that may be recognizable to you. 'Cause Harry's been through quite a few worlds; it's inevitable that some he stumbled upon would be in my fandoms of choice, while others would be populated by OC's.

Also, because this is from Naruto's pov you guys don't get to understand things that he doesn't understand until Harry's pov. Specifically in the case of language stuff *wiggles eyebrows*. I mean...I just used google translate so if you want to look it up you can, but you won't hear it from _me_ until it's Harry time XD. I started splitting things into months and years so that you guys could get some clear-cut dates, and so that I could use some holidays for stuff (yes, I'm so tauntingly vague muahaha). The founding of Konoha is considered to be the beginning of the calendar here, and ME stands for Modern Era, because that's the format of the timeline I'm drawing from.

And finally (god, what a long A/N), this chapter only has 3 meetings in it because it was getting too long and I'm lazy and I just wanted to get something out for you guys. So. Enjoy!

oOoooOoooOo

6\. March, 62 ME

Naruto doesn't keep track of the amount of times they meet anymore, not because he doesn't want to (because every time he meets with Hari-san is important to him), but because he lost count some time around 6 months ago, and he's really not able to count it all out now.

This time though, is more significant. Today, Naruto is 11 (and a half) and has just failed the genin exam for the second time. He comes slinking into Hari-san's apartment (having waited for Hari-san to go home; he rarely visits Hari-san's restaurant, because he doesn't want anyone to associate him with that business, and for Hari-san to lose customers. He thinks Hari-san probably knows what he's doing, but the older man doesn't call him out on it), head low and eyes fixed on the floor.

Hari-san seems to sense that he doesn't want to talk about his troubles yet (the wide eyed, panicked look he gives the man as soon as Hari-san opens his mouth is probably a good clue), so the green-eyed man merely greets him with a warm hello, then begins to tell Naruto all about his day at the restaurant. Naruto is thankful for the distraction and the delay, and listens contently as Hari-san complains about his newest employee, and laughs gleefully when the older man tells a story involving ovens and a microwave and things getting set on fire.

Soon enough though, Hari-san pins him with one of his stern, concerned looks, and asks him what's wrong. He has to fight with himself for a moment. He wants to remain strong in the eyes of someone who actually respects him, but at the same time...it's _Hari-san_ , how can he not tell the man what's bothering him?

(When he really thinks about it, he realizes that it boils down to his mistrust of adults versus his trust of Hari-san, and with that he realizes there's really no question, because he trusts Hari-san with his _everything_.)

Still...it takes him a moment before he finally manages to mumble, "I'm not sure what's wrong, dattebayo. I just can't get the stupid clone jutsu right. They always come out looking pale and mostly dead, then they explode in a poof of smoke." his face flushing lightly with embarrassment (even _clones_ of _himself_ don't want to be around him, he really is a failure).

Hari-san stares at him for a few moments, and just when it's starting to feel a tad bit awkward, the other man blinks and suggests, "Have you tried doing chakra control exercises? It seems to me that you may be putting too much chakra into your attempts."

"Of course!" He replies exuberantly, but there's a slight pause, and he shifts sheepishly in his seat. Hari-san raises an enquiring eyebrow, and Naruto caves immediately, mumbling, "Well, I've _tried_ them, but normally I end up setting the leaves on fire, so I stopped." A hand raises to scratch at the back of his neck sheepishly. Hari-san merely raises his other eyebrow, and releases a friendly chuckle (and Naruto can tell he's not laughing _at_ him. He should know the difference by now). Still, he crosses his arms and pouts, because that's what he saw Ino-chan do when _her_ brother was teasing her.

(That's not to say that Hari-san is his _brother_ or anything, he thinks hastily, just that that's what's probably _appropriate_ here.)

Quietly, Hari-san explains, "When I was younger, I had a similar issue to you. Too much-" he pauses slightly, (almost too quickly to be noticed, but Naruto always hangs on his every word so he _does_ notice, and files it away for later), then carries on, "Chakra for me to easily control." He stops, and Naruto waits (because surely the man has some good advice; he's obviously not overflowing with chakra right now, is he?), but Hari-san seems content to just sip his tea in silence.

"Well?" Naruto finally caves, about two seconds later. Hari-san merely glances up from his teacup, eyebrow raised. "How did you control your chakra, dattebayo?" He exclaims, arms waving above his head in frustration. Hari-san chuckles, and Naruto pouts, slumping in his seat. Hari-san is such a jerk sometimes.

"Well," Hari-san begins, and Naruto sits up in his seat, eyes trained on the man in front of him, because while Hari-san may be a jerk (a lot less of a jerk than that bastard Sasuke, but that's to be expected since Sasuke's a _bastard_ , duh), he's a _smart_ jerk. "I was taught a method of control by one of my mentors. It's a sort of moving meditation-" Aaaand, that's not good.

Naruto slumps dramatically in his seat again with a sigh, pressing his face to the table, because meditation is _not_ one of his strong suits. It never works well for him in the academy (though that's certainly not helped by his classmates' excessively loud 'steady breathing', the pinches and elbows thrown his way, or his teacher coming over to reprimand him for disturbing his classmates even though he's not even _moving_ for once) because, among other reasons, he can never seem to focus on the steady candle, or quiet water, or stable stone that they advise as an anchor.

He opens his eyes, and almost jolts as he finds Hari-sans eyes focused intently on him...but it's a glassy kind of focus, as though he's looking at him through a cloudy lense. Naruto tenses, opening his mouth to apologize (he's not sure what he did, or if he did anything, but apologies are usually a safe bet), but then Hari-san blinks and abruptly asks, "Do you want to learn?"

Naruto cocks his head, surprised. Hari-san replies as though he asked a question, muttering, "The moving meditation. Do you want to, uh...do you want to learn it?" Naruto sits up, confused, because...well, Hari-san isn't quite looking at him? He focuses first on his right ear, then skirts past his eyes to his nose, then glances up to the ceiling. Is Hari-san-is he embarrassed? "I can't guarantee that it'll help you, but it probably will." He mumbles, and green eyes make a subtle circuit from Naruto's whisker marks to his left ear, then back to the ceiling.

Naruto leans forward, curious, and their eyes meet, and that's not embarrassment, that's _anxiety_ , and then Hari-san's eyes are a solemn green and he's rubbing his forehead, right over the weird lightning shaped scar on his forehead, and he's quietly saying, "You don't have to, I just thought-"

And he blurts out an eager, "No, I want to!" even though meditation is boring, because if it's _that_ important to Hari-san it's _really_ important to Naruto. And Hari-san smiles at him, all sunshine and joy and relief, and he's proud that he brought that expression to the man's face.

oOo

They're out behind Hari-san's building in the little grassy area that's encased by a fence. Shirata-san from upstairs is watching them through the windows in the building's communal laundry room, but not with the suspicion and cold _cold_ eyes she used to have. Now it's more of a neutral watchfulness, and Naruto finds that he _much_ prefers that.

Hari-san's standing a few paces in front of him, eyes closed and breathing steady, and Naruto's Not Happy because Hari-san just told him to attack. And not just to attack, to hold nothing back! He can't _do_ that! Hari-san is (cheerfulkindhome _protecthim_ ) a civilian! He's...he's fragile, and Naruto doesn't want to hurt the man. Despite his bravado he _knows_ he's not quite an awesome ninja yet, but he's still more than an average civilian can handle.

Still, when Hari-san cracks open one eye to send him a reassuring grin and insistently says, "Come _on_ kid, I'm just trying to test something," (and Naruto hopes he's not trying to test how quickly Naruto can accidentally break a bone, because that's Not Okay), Naruto reluctantly falls into his best taijutsu stance and lunges forward ( _gently_ ). Only to stumble and nearly fall as he overbalances from hitting nothing but air. He looks up, confused.

Hari-san is a few feet from him, eyes tightly shut, a look of concentration on his face. He again opens one eye, raising an eyebrow and sending Naruto a challenging smile. And Naruto feels an answering grin alight on his face, because hell yes, it's _on_. Naruto dives forward again, faster this time, though no less carefully because he doesn't actually want to _hurt_ the green-eyed man.

Only, his care goes out the window a few minutes in because Hari-san is _good_. Naruto doesn't exactly know how good (he's got little experience in measuring such things), but the man dodges all his hits with ease, not a motion wasted, and Naruto figures he should be frustrated, but all he can think of is the time he passed the Inuzuka compound one afternoon and Kiba was sparring with one of his older clansmen as they playfully danced around him, and is this what it's like to have a _family_ -

In a moment of distraction he overreaches and trips, but suddenly Hari-san's in his space, an arm reaching out to halt his falling form and-well, he flinches away. He feels like he hits the ground harder than he should have, the thump strangely loud in the quiet area, but he can barely hear it over the pounding of his heart as he stares up at Hari-san, whose hand is still outstretched toward him.

The man's expression is still frozen in worry and surprise, but Naruto literally _sees_ as he crumples in on himself, his eyes darkening with hurt and regret and something like self loathing and then those edges are tucked away behind placid green and he begins to retract his hand, and Naruto did thisbut he _didn't mean to_ -He's frozen, blue eyes staring at green that won't quite meet his gaze, and then Hari-san is stepping back from him, carefully but quickly.

 _Shit_.

Before he can think on it, he's diving forward, his head colliding with the other man's sternum even as he wraps his arms around him in a desperate hug, though it turns into more of a tackle than a conventional hug, the two of them toppling to the ground. He feels Hari-san stiffen beneath him, but he doesn't move because. Because he-

"It wasn't 'cause of _you_ , you stupid jerk," he mumbles into the man's shirt. Hari-san stays motionless for a moment, then he breathes out slowly and arms come up to wrap around Naruto's shoulders. They lay there for a good few minutes, just breathing together, and Naruto really doesn't want to break this calm silence, but he _needs_ to explain, so Hari-san never looks like that again. It was just-the situation had been so _familiar_ , and not in a good way.

"At the academy," he begins quietly, "I get held back for detention sometimes by Batu-sensei, because my taijutsu isn't so good." He's a bit embarrassed to admit this, because if Hari-san finds out he's the stupididiotfool _deadlast_ then he might leave Naruto for someone _useful_ , but Hari-san's not like that (of course), and just carefully begins rubbing his back. (Naruto still breathes a sigh of relief.)

"I skip those detentions now." he says quietly, carefully, because when he'd tried to tell both Iruka-sensei and Hokage-jiji about this, they'd interrupted before he could tell them _why_ , and he hadn't had the desire (desire, courage, _strength_ , because this was a sort of test that they both failed) to bring it up again. But Hari-san just hums, and Naruto feels himself relax.

"I skip those detentions," he says more strongly, "Because they're not…" he bites his lip. They're not helpful? What he expected? They scare him? "I don't think they're fair." He takes a breath and curses himself when his breath hitches, because he _knows_ Hari-san notices, and the hand on his back stops moving and becomes a bracing weight (and he doesn't feel trapped, somehow, just...comfortable).

"I thought maybe the sparing would help me, but it...doesn't feel like proper sparring?" He says haltingly, and Hari-san doesn't feel like he's breathing. "It just-whenever I mess up and Batu-sensei gets past my defenses, he hits me _hard_." He pauses, "Or when I mess up a stance. Or when I set a leaf on fire."

Hari-san hasn't said anything, and Naruto's getting a little nervous, so he begins to babble. "I mean, I know I should go to detentions because it's the rules, and, uh-" A terrifying thought occurs to him. What if Hari-san thinks this makes him _weak_? Hastily, he says, "I know ninjas are supposed to hit each other, it's really not that big of a deal, but I just wanted to explain because you looked, uh…" Great, and now he's _insulting_ the man. This is going terribly, and Hari-san is still silent, so Naruto allows his sentence to trail off awkwardly, and begins to pull himself out of the hug. Only, Hari-san's arms tighten around his shoulders.

He cranes his neck as far as he can, but all he can see is the underside of the man's jaw, which...looks a bit tense, from the very little he knows about the undersides of jaws. "Hari-san?" He prods, a little nervously. Hari-san huffs a breath out of his nose, and strangely heated air rushes over the back of Naruto's neck. "Hari-san?" he asks, a bit more insistently, struggling a bit.

The arms around him loosen slightly, but the man says, "Hold on, Naruto," his voice a bland calm. "I'd appreciate it if you could stay there for just a moment longer, because otherwise I'm probably going to get up from here and set your sensei on fire."

Aaaand Naruto isn't sure _how_ to feel about that bombshell, so he settles for feeling a bit touched on the inside, but gears himself up for a visible freak out (because otherwise, how will Hari-san know that this behavior isn't okay?). He attempts to sit up, and Hari-san's arms tighten for a moment before allowing it. At first he removes himself from the other man's legs, though he remains pressed against his side, but then, looking down into Hari-san's angry eyes, he decides to slump across the man's stomach instead. He hears a quiet, "Oof," and decides that that's sign enough that Hari-san is suitably restrained. _Then_ he proceeds to have his freakout.

"What the hell, Hari-san!" He sputters, ignoring the quiet murmur of, 'Language,' beneath him. "You can't kill Batu-sensei!" There's a huff of laughter beneath him, and he sits up again to look Hari-san in the eye. The man doesn't seem to be taking this seriously enough, so he repeats himself, firmly stating, "You _can't_ kill Batu-sensei."

Hari-san sighs and rolls onto his side, bring Naruto down with him, and Naruto squawks in indignant protest as he's clutched to the man's chest. "But Naruto, I was only going to set him on fire," the man honest to god _whines_ like a child, and Naruto struggles and turns so that he's glaring up at the man, one cheek still pressed to his chest.

"No." He says firmly, wondering if he needs to get a newspaper to swat Hari-san's nose like he's seen Hana-san do for the Inuzuka dogs. That would be a little ridiculous, but _Hari-san_ is being a little ridiculous, so he's sure he could make it work.

Hari-san laughs and buries his face in Naruto's hair and murmurs, "Okay," with a smile in his voice (even though Naruto can hear the anger tucked away behind it), and they remain there for a few minutes, Naruto listening to the soothing rumble in Hari-san's chest.

oOo

Eventually they get up, and Hari-san _does_ teach him the moving meditation thing. Apparently it's less of an exercise for chakra control, and more of an exercise for syncing up physical and spiritual energies? Naruto doesn't really get it, but when he tries the leaf exercise again, it _doesn't_ burst into flames (though it does get a little burnt looking around the edges), which is more progress than he's _ever_ made. Like... _ever_.

He'll pass for sure this time, and he's sure to tell Hari-san this as he leaves, running out the door after eating dinner at the green-eyed man's place.

He doesn't know why Hari-san looks so sad when he turns around to wave.

7\. April 63 ME

His face is blank with surprise, mouth hanging slightly open. His clones look similarly shocked, and pop as soon as he stops focusing on them. Mizuki has a strange expression on his face, an odd mixture of unpleasant surprise and bubbling fury (he may try to hide it, but Naruto's had his number ever since the man tried to _unfix_ the taijutsu stances Hari-san had worked so hard to help him with), and Iruka-sensei looks prouder than Naruto's ever seen him.

"Can you repeat that, Iruka-sensei?" He says, a grin beginning to form on his face.

Iruka gives him a gentle smile, pride dimming to pure, simple joy, and says, "I said, you _passed_ , Naruto. Congratulations."

Naruto's grin is so wide that it hurts his face. He jumps up, fist pumping in the air, and screeches, "Dattebayo!" Iruka's wincing at the volume, Mizuki looks like he's sucking on a lemon, and Naruto doesn't even _care_ because he _did it_! He's finally done it! He accepts his hitai-ate with a solemn dignity and ties it around his forehead. He's ready to yell it out to the world (to let his village know that, despite their animosity, he's shown that he's _skilled_ enough to become whatever he sets his mind to), but then he realizes, there's one person he wants to hear this first, from him.

He thanks Iruka, tackling the man with a hug, which he seems surprised by, but returns readily enough. Mizuki looks like he'd sooner stab himself with a kunai than sully himself with Naruto's brand of affection, so Naruto just sends the man a smug expression, one eye shut as he sticks out his tongue, then runs out of the room (he wouldn't wanna hug that mangy old fox anyway).

He is, for once, happy to have a name so low in the alphabet, because it means the room is practically clear when he comes charging out. The only ones there are Ino, who offers him a sincere congratulations and a sneer (he'll never understand girls), and a couple of other civilian-born kids he doesn't know, who just glare at him.

He quickly makes his way out of the academy (ignoring the pang in his heart as he sees other kids getting hugged by their parents, 'cause he's got places to be and someone to see) and sets out running down the street. He ignores the sneers, the glares, the hate, and the indifference pointed his way, 'cause they just bounce off his goddamn _hitai-ate_ because _he did it_.

He's sweaty and panting by the time he reaches Hari-san's restaurant, and for once he doesn't even pause as he goes for the door. He bursts in, the bells above his head chiming merrily, and he ignores the stares he gets, because this is a _good day_.

"Hari-san," He bellows, nearly tripping over his own feet as he scrambles up to the man behind the bar. Hari-san turns to him with a smile. And Naruto pauses.

"Hello Naruto." He says warmly enough, but...something's wrong. His eyes are-they're dull, maybe? Naruto's used to them sparkling like gems, but this, this is strange. Hari-san doesn't look okay. Naruto's not completely sure how to describe it, (Hari-san looks like Naruto looks when he sits on his swing and watches other kids get picked up by their families. He looks like Naruto looks when he sits alone in his dark apartment because he hasn't eaten today and the electricity's out and no one cares) but he knows that Hari-san should _never_ look like this, and he'll do his best to fix it. He's going to put his awesome news to the back of his mind, because Hari-san _needs_ him.

So, Naruto clambers gracelessly up onto a barstool, lessens his smile from its blinding state to something a bit more manageable, and says snootily, "Bartender, I would like some of your finest-" He glances over the menu (like he doesn't know it like the back of his hand), "Macaroni and cheese." He twiddles an imaginary mustache, his most comical devious look on his face.

Hari-san's painfully brittle smile twitches into something slightly more real, and his eyes look a little more _there_ than they did, and Naruto counts this as a partial success but he's not done yet. Hari-san hums, almost a quiet laugh, turns from him, and heads for the kitchen to get his food, so Naruto spins idly on the stool until the man returns with the materials.

See, Hari-san has a kitchen in the back, but he _also_ has a kitchen out here in the front where he sometimes makes food, and watches the bar. Naruto knows that, usually if he's here, Hari-san will cook out front. He also knows that he always sees Hari-san relax when the man cooks, and when Naruto talks to him (Hari-san's the only one he's ever met that actually enjoys his voice for long, and he's not quite sure why, but if it makes the man happy more power to him). Why not do both at the same time?

So, Naruto talks. He talks, and talks, and talks some more, chattering on and on about anything that comes to mind (though not his special news yet, because he has to wait until the _perfect_ time to share that). He lets his mouth run, eyes focused on Hari-san, and watches as the man slowly relaxes, shoulders untensing, smile broadening, and eyes beginning to sparkle (just like they always should).

He has to stop once he gets his food, of course, because otherwise Hari-san will give him that stern look and say, "Don't talk with your mouth full," and then his eyes will go distant and sad (if only for a moment), and that's exactly the _opposite_ of what Naruto wants. So. He talks between bites.

Hari-san is leaning on the bar in front of him, one elbow settled on wood as the other idly runs a dishrag along the bar. Green eyes are focused on him, on _now_ , and a gentle smile is playing across his face, and _this_ is what Naruto wanted. Hari-san, just as he always should be. He allows a large smile to stretch across his face, because his work here is done.

So he finishes off his mac n' cheese in a gigantic bite (his puffed out cheeks make Hari-san laugh), finishes off his story ("And Kiba nearly _peed_ himself when his mom came up behind us."), gives Hari-san a hearty goodbye hug (and maybe holds on a bit tighter than he otherwise would), and strolls out the door.

He quickly scales the wall of a neighboring building, and ignores the door opening at Hari-san's building somewhere beneath him, as well as the drunken voices wondering where he's gone. He decides to take the scenic, rooftop route to his home this evening.

It's not till he gets there and realizes that he could give himself a high five if solid clones were a thing that he remembers he never told Hari-san about his successful graduation.

oOo

He doesn't sit in his house sulking for a couple of hours. Really, he doesn't! He just...contemplates life for a while. In a blanket cocoon. It's fine.

He's not thinking about Hari-san. He's not thinking about all those families he saw this afternoon. He's not thinking about how his classmates are probably celebrating with their families, how he wishes that _that could be him_ -he scrubs a wrist angrily across his face, wiping the tears off onto his blanket. He'll just tell Hari-san tomorrow. It doesn't matter when he tells him, just that he's the first one to hear it come from Naruto's mouth. Though Naruto's not sure why it matters so much to him. It's not like Hari-san's his _dad_ or anything. Though...if he were to have a dad, he wishes-

A knock on his door jerks him from this train of thought (thankfully), and he sticks his head out of his cocoon equally curious and terrified. No one comes here. No one other than the masks even _knows_ he's here. Did they figure it out? Is his door about to be busted down (again)?

He leaps off his bed, stumbling on the dismount as he attempts to gather up his most important things. He frowns angrily, even as his breath quickens, because...this had become _home_ to him. He'd settled, and he curses himself for it, because he should've know that nothing good in life ever lasts for him.

It's almost funny that a year ago he probably would've gathered a couple of containers of ramen and the clothes on his back and run, but now he finds himself spending precious seconds deliberating over small things that Hari-san has bought him, his favorite jacket, the warmest blanket he's ever owned, his _headband_ -he's halfway out the window when he hears the voice through the door. "Naruto? It's me, are you in?"

And...oh. That's-it's just Hari-san. Naruto breathes out a sigh of relief, and allows the few things he's gathered to fall from his arms. He stumbles slightly, adrenaline leaving him light headed as he heads toward the door, calling a soft, "Be right there," though he's not sure Hari-san heard him.

He opens the door carefully, and he's met with Hari-san's grinning face, the man looking even more _there_ than he'd been when when Naruto left. But then Hari-san's grin fades and his eyes harden. "Are you alright?" He asks, glancing sharply around at what little he can see of Naruto's apartment, and Naruto has...no idea why?

"Yes?" He answers cautiously, wondering why the man would think otherwise-oh shit, his eyes are probably red, aren't they? Well, the more he ignores it, the more it'll go away, so he does just that, plastering a small grin on his face. Hari-san gives him a thorough look over, even while the man continues to glance around, and Naruto is...sorta flattered that the man cares, honestly. "Really, I'm fine!" he insists, pulling on a larger grin to reassure the man, and after a moment, Hari-san's tense shoulders relax again and his smile returns.

He lifts a paper bag that Naruto didn't even notice from the ground, and holds it out like an offering. Naruto looks from it to the man in question, and Hari-san says, "Well, Mac n' Cheese isn't really a very filling meal, so I was wondering if you'd like to learn how to make your favorite food from scratch?" And hell _yes_ , he's very much on board with that. Naruto's eyes fill with glee, and he yanks the black haired man into his apartment ( _carefully_ ), to learn how to make the food of the gods.

It's not really that complex of a process (which is even better because now he can make ramen pretty easily?), but that's probably because Hari-san handles most of the actual cooking. Naruto only has to mince some green onions, cut the chicken, and then basically watch as Hari-san walks him through the rest of the recipe. At one point Naruto goes to toss a piece of boiled egg at Hari-san, then the man actually _catches_ it in his _mouth_ and that's probably the coolest thing Naruto's seen all day.

Upon completion of the food, the pair go out to Naruto's living room floor to eat (because although Naruto used to have a dining room table, it had 4 sides and with only 1 of him he felt the loneliness keenly). They eat until their bellies are full (a novel concept for Naruto, honestly), then lounge on Naruto's favorite rug, and Naruto basks in the comfort that he feels with Hari-san's presence, the feeling of not feeling like he needs to _say_ anything.

Then Hari-san sits up and Naruto glances at the man, looking up at him curiously with eyes half lidded from a full stomach and contentment, and the man's giving him this oddly serious and sheepish look. "Hey," he says (and Naruto very carefully _doesn't_ say 'Hay is for horses,' because this seems like it might be serious), "I'd like to apologize for earlier." Naruto tilts his head to the side in a wordless question, because he can't think of a single thing that Hari-san has done at _any_ point that requires an apology (well, other than that time he tricked Naruto into eating vegetables, because Naruto has recently found out that despite their succulent flavor and beautiful orange color, carrots _are_ in fact a vegetable).

Hari-san's expression becomes solemn, and Naruto almost raises an eyebrow. "I-" Hari-san begins, then takes a deep breath, and Naruto sits up and focuses his full attention on the man, because the deep furrow of his brow and the grim slash of his mouth are rueful and pained. "Today just isn't a good day for me," he says, then his eyes darken and he looks at Naruto apologetically, "But I shouldn't have taken that out on you."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Naruto almost snorts. "Hari-san, you didn't 'take anything out' on me." He says skeptically (because he _knows_ what it's like to have people 'take things out' on him, and it usually involves a lot more broken bottles and sneers). Hari-san opens his mouth to speak, but Naruto interrupts him with an unimpressed brow. "Hari-san, you were _hurting_. The only one you took anything out on was yourself." He says with emphasis (then pauses to go back over that sentence, because...can you take things out on yourself? A strange thought to be sure).

"The worst thing you've done today is try to deal with that all by yourself." He crosses his arms over his chest as wide green eyes look at him like they've never seen him before, and he almost scoffs. "You _know_ I'm here for you, as best as I can be. You're my-" he pauses slightly (because what _is_ Hari-san to him?), but finishes without a hitch, "friend, so if I can help you I _will_." Blue eyes meet green and he adds a firm, "Dattebayo." Just on principle.

Hari-san's staring at him, and he's hoping that he hasn't overstepped any invisible boundaries, but this is something that he _won't_ budge on. This is really important, and if Naruto's able to rely on Hari-san then Hari-san has to be able to rely on _him_. Then Hari-san's hugging him, whispering, "Thank you, Naruto," and Naruto murmurs, "You're welcome, Hari-san," and they stay like that for a while.

Eventually they part, and Hari-san turns to the side to wipe tears from his eyes while Naruto carefully looks away, and Hari-san stands and heads for the kitchen. Naruto follows him, and they clean up the little bit of mess that remains from their cooking dinner (because Hari-san subscribes to the 'clean as you go' school of thought, and there's little left by way of dishes or food to clean up).

Naruto sees Harry out sometime after midnight. They're on his doorstep, and Naruto offers to walk Harry home, but the older man just laughs him off. Then he hugs him one last time, whispers, "Congratulations on your graduation." And he's gone.

Naruto's grin stretches across his entire face as he falls asleep that night.

8\. May 63 ME

Sasuke is _such_ a bastard!" Naruto declares as he bursts through the apartment door, nearly barrelling over Poff in his indignity (though he shuts the door gently behind him, because Hari-san _hates_ slamming doors). "I mean, really," he says loudly, "What crawled up his broody ass and died?" He scoops up Poff, petting her head gently even as he wanders into the kitchen to grab a cup of orange juice, and stomps over to throw himself onto Hari-san's ridiculously comfy couch.

He sits there for a moment, righteously indignant, and waits for Hari-san to ask him what Sasuke's done this time, just like he has when Naruto came home complaining about his teammates every day for the last 2 weeks, his smile indulgent and amused. But the inquiry doesn't come, and he pulls himself from his righteous rage, concerned. At first he's a little scared (has he complained too much? Is Hari-san finally sick and tired of his whining? He knew he should've toned it down, the man must _hate_ him), but...Hari-san doesn't _look_ angry, or even annoyed.

Hari-san hasn't turned from the window, staring out it as he rests his chin on his hands, legs tucked to his chest. "Hari-san?" Naruto asks quietly, and the man hums absently but says nothing more. His eyes are distant and unfocused, glazed green orbs idly watching the sun set over Konoha's red-tiled roofs, his mouth flicking into a small frown every few moments. Poff meows mournfully from Naruto's arms, and Naruto pats her gently, uneasy. "Hari-san, are you alright?" He asks, louder, and the man's head whips around, startled.

"Oh, Naruto! I-Sorry, I didn't hear you come in," he stutters, unwinding his legs and beginning to stand, but Poff leaps from Naruto's arms and settles herself on the man's lap with a quiet mew. Something...something is off, here. The man's eyes are still kind of glazed, as though he's looking at Naruto through a film of water, not sure whether he's really seeing him, or maybe a reflection of something else.

"Would you like something to eat, or uh, something to drink, maybe?" Naruto glances at the cup of orange juice in his hand, then back up to Hari-san, just in time to see the man make an odd sweeping motion with his hand. Poff reaches her paw up with a quiet meow, and gently pats the outstretched hand. He looks down at her and says, "No I wasn't, I-" then pauses to glance back up at Naruto, who is starting to get really concerned. Hari-san drops his hand awkwardly and pats at Poff's back blindly.

"Hari-san, seriously, are you okay?" Naruto says, leaning forward and setting his juice down on a coaster.

"Yeah, it's fine. I mean, I'm fine, I'm okay." The man fumbles, and Naruto cocks his head, perturbed, but Hari-san just gives him an unsteady smile and says, "Really, I'm alright." He runs a shaking hand through his hair and musters up a slightly better smile. "Did you come here just to hang out, or did you want to tell me something?"

Naruto looks the man up and down for a moment. He's pale and his fingers are twitching and his smile looks fixed on his face. Naruto's not completely sure what's caused this, but he figures that if he doesn't quite know what's wrong, the best thing to do may be to ignore the elephant in the room. If Hari-san gets any worse though, he's taking the man to the hospital, despite his fear of the place.

Thus determined, he slouches back into the plush couch in a carefully constructed show of care-free body language (Iruka-sensei was talking about infiltration in class the other day and this is the kind of thing he was showing them; it's actually pretty cool), and says, "Yeah, I wanted to talk about that bastard Sasuke!"

"Language," Hari-san says (though it seems more like habit than actual care), and Naruto's lower lip slips out in a slight pout. Hari-san raises an eyebrow. Naruto raises a brow of his own. Hari-san raises his other eyebrow as well and Naruto, unable to do the same despite literal weeks of practice, concedes defeat.

"Fine," Naruto mumbles, "I wanted to talk to you about that _jerk_ Sasuke." Hari-san nods, a slight, distracted smile on his lips as he sips his tea...that Naruto was certain he didn't have a moment ago?

"So, what did he do this time?" The man asks, and Hari-san's mysterious tea is momentarily forgotten as Naruto swells up again in indignant anger.

"So the bas-" Hari-san blinks at him, "Jerk and I were sparring, and I got a hit on him, and I was all, 'Oh, I think you might have a bit of a weakness on your left side,' like, trying to be helpful, right? And you know what he said?" Hari-san blinks mildly at him over his tea and shakes his head. "He said, 'Hn. Dobe.'" Naruto deepens his voice slightly and turns his nose up in the air to properly demonstrate. "Like, what a jerk, right?" He declares.

Hari-san blinks at him again, a distant smile curling the edges of his lips as he sips his tea. "Of course," he murmurs.

Naruto frowns. "Hari-san, are you...are you even listening to me?" He asks, because he's gotten that same kind of answer from Hokage-jiji and Iruka-sensei _all_ the time when he starts ranting about ramen or becoming the Hokage or his favorite shade of orange, and neither of _them_ ever were, but Hari-san is usually different. This must be one of his "bad days" as the man had called them once when Naruto came upon him shivering alone in his kitchen.

Hari-san blinks at him again, his expression sort of pole-axed, like he's deep underwater and he doesn't quite know up from down, then stares down into his cup, like it holds the secrets of the universe. "I'm listening, really." Hari-san then says, surprisingly. "Just...remembering my own team."

"You were a ninja, Hari-san?" Naruto inquires, excited despite himself.

"No, not quite." The man answers absently, turning the tea cup this way and that, "But I did have a team, much like yours." For a moment he wants to ask what happened to them, where they are now, but then Naruto sees the sad set of his mouth and his slumped shoulders, and decides against it. "They were my family." He adds, probably aiming for nonchalance, but shuttered eyes say differently.

"We were, well...we didn't start out that way, of course. In the beginning she was too bossy, he was too blind, I was too naive, and we were all too young. We didn't get along all the time, and the two of them argued almost constantly." He smiles fondly, a small, broken thing, "But they were my brother and sister, treasures of my heart, and I grew to love them dearly."

The man doesn't have tears in his eyes, but something about him is...fractured. It's like Naruto's seeing him for the first time again, maybe seeing pieces missing where he thought there was a whole. "I hope you find something like that in your team." the man abruptly says (Naruto almost wrinkles his nose because brothers? With Sasuke the bastard? Gross), narrowed eyes staring down into his teacup. "You'll need-you'll need loyalty. People who will stay by your side, through everything. People you can rely on."

One of his hands raises to rub at the bridge of his nose, eyes still focused intently on the inside of the teacup, and Naruto wonders whether or not he should _do something_ , because Hari-san seems kind of sick. Maybe he's feverish, delusional?

"Because, fireling," Hari-san continues, listing slightly sideways (alarmed, Naruto reaches out to catch him, but he rights himself), "You're going to _need_ that in your future."

"I, uh, I am?" Naruto says as he stands, honestly more focused on how Hari-san's hands have become shaky, and his forehead sweaty than on what the man's saying.

" _Ar bith,_ _éisteacht, lasair beag_ _!_ " Hari-san says insistently, and Naruto tips his head to the side, even as he rounds the table, because...was that a different language? "Please," Harry says, suddenly desperate, hunching his shoulders, and even though his eyes are _literally_ unfocused, looking at something that Naruto can't see, and Naruto is _really fucking worried about him right now_ , he listens, because something is telling him that this is important, "Fireling, you _must_ get on with your team. You _must_ find your weyr."

"My-my way?" Naruto stutters distractedly, his hand fluttering uselessly before he eventually settles one on Hari-san's forehead. The man is clammy and his forehead is too warm, and Naruto doesn't know what to _do_. The teacup drops from Hari-san's hands as a violent tremor shakes them, and Naruto only manages to catch it before it hits the coffee table because he's standing right next to the man.

"Y-your," Hari-san begins, then unfocused eyes glance around the room blindly, " _Do theaghlach_ ," he says, then shakes his head in frustration, and says, "Your _family_."

Naruto pauses (and doesn't tell Hari-san that _he's_ his family, the only family he's ever had and more than he ever thought he'd get), then murmurs, "Hari-san, I'm gonna get you a blanket and head out, okay? I think maybe you should get some sleep." And as soon he's out the door, Naruto's going straight to Jiji for help.

"No, no, _táim ceart go leor_." The man pauses, then growls in frustration and says, "I mean, I'm fine. Please stay, I really wanted you here today." Hari-san says as Naruto grabs the blanket that hangs off the back of the couch. When Naruto doesn't respond, focused on retrieving the blanket without moving Hari-san or Poff, the man says, "I mean, if you're busy that's okay too, I just-" And Naruto can't have that, so he cuts the man off by tossing a blanket onto his head, then settling on the floor next to the couch as Hari-san removes it.

"I'm happy to stay, Hari-san," Naruto says with forced cheer as the man uncovers both himself and a melancholy Poff, startled green eyes finally _really_ focusing on blue for the first time today, "But I think you should get some sleep all the same. Don't worry," he adds as Poff hops up from Hari-san's lap to sit on the back of the couch, "Poff and I'll both be here when you wake up, kay?" Hari-san gives him a look that's somewhere between blank and pleased, and he doesn't protest as he turns and stretches himself along the couch. Poff migrates to curl up on his back, and soon his breathing steadies out.

And now Naruto has a moment to think.

He sits silently in a sort of shock. What the hell just happened? Hari-san is obviously sick, has a fever and everything (and Naruto's happy that _he's_ never gotten sick like this before). But, even while delirious, the man had seemed _really_ concerned, about Naruto of all things (Hari-san has this weird thing where he just...never worries about himself, and that makes Naruto Very Concerned).

For a moment, Naruto is overcome with the certainty that _he_ caused this sickness, that he and his selfish, constant complaining about his team had literally caused Hari-san's illness.

Then he realizes that that's not physically possible, and forces himself to calm down before he wakes Hari-san up, because the man has a sort of 6th sense for figuring out when something's wrong with him. Proving his point, Hari-san shuffles a bit, huffing in his sleep, and a hand reaches down to settle comfortingly in Naruto's hair. Naruto's tense shoulders relax slightly, and he sighs and leans back.

Naruto doesn't know why Hari-san's sick, and he doesn't know how to fix it. He doesn't really have any experience with sickness, never having been sick himself, but he figures that, for now, he can just stay here and make sure Hari-san doesn't, like...smother in his sleep or something, and bring the man, uh...chicken noodle soup? ...he'll figure something out.

Still, he can't get Hari-san's words out of his head. Hari-san told him that he had to find his family, that he could find companionship in his team. He'd almost like to say that the man's being ridiculous, that he doesn't know what he's talking about, but...he can almost ( _almost_ ) see it, okay?

Dogmask guy is back in his life, even if he's there as a perverted lazy sensei who never shows up to anything on time. He and Sasuke are both orphans, both lost, both searching. He and Sakura are both reaching for an unattainable goal. These things they share, these are the beginnings of bonds. He _knows this already_ , even if Hari-san had said nothing.

But Kakashi isn't like dogmask guy at _all_ , he laughs at Naruto's failures and doesn't help him when he asks for it and sometimes Naruto wonders if maybe they're not the same person at all. Sakura and he may be aiming for their goals, but she whinges and whines for what she wants while he's fighting with everything he has. And sure, Sasuke may be an orphan too, but he's had everything handed to him on a silver platter, and he still manages to come down on Naruto with the same animosity as everyone else.

And honestly, somewhere deep inside him, Naruto _hates_. He _hates_ Kakashi for leaving him, then coming back as someone else. He _hates_ Sakura for her disdain and abuses. He _hates_ Sasuke for glaring down at him from his lofty pedestal. _He hates and it burns him up inside_.

And then Hari-san's hand is moving through his hair in a slow stroke. " _Sin ceart go leo_ r, fireling," The man says quietly, " _mar is féidir liom a dhó do bheirt againn_." And Naruto doesn't understand the words, but he feels himself calma bit at the reassuring tone all the same. He takes a deep breath and leans back into Hari-san's hand, and waits until the man's breathing is soft and Poff's quiet purrs are permeating the room again. Then he makes his decision.

Hari-san has never asked him for anything, not _once_ , and even now that he has, it's only for Naruto's own good. Naruto would hang the moon and the stars for him, if he could, but all he's asked is that Naruto get along with his team, that Naruto try to be _happy_.

So yeah, he thinks as he yawns and leans into Hari-san's couch to wait until the man awakens, he'll work on it.

oOo

Next week after team training (after Sasuke has already stalked off and Sakura has trailed along after him like a lovestruck puppy), Naruto asks Kakashi if he can speak to him for a second. The man's one eye gives him an indeterminable look over the top of his pervy book, but he shrugs and puts it away in his flak jacket, giving Naruto his full attention for the first time in months, and Naruto's almost unhappy for it, because the book was sort of like a barrier between 'Kakashi' and 'Dogmask guy' and now he _knows_ that they're one in the same.

"Look," he says, running a hand through his hair as he breathes out a gusty sigh, "Did I do something wrong?" He asks, unsure how to ask his real question (why is he acting this way, where's the man Naruto grew up with, _why did he leave him behind_ ). Kakashi cocks his head at him, eye glinting with amusement. Naruto can almost see him about to say something snarky, so he levels him with a serious look. Kakashi stares at him, seeming almost confused. Like he doesn't know what's going on.

Naruto almost rolls his eyes. "Inu," he whines plaintively (hopefully), just like he always did when the man would bring him vegetables instead of ramen (even though he was always thankful just to get _something_ instead of nothing), but instead of the chuckle he's used to, Kakashi gives him a sharp, suspicious look. It feels like it spears him through.

Kakashi prowls forward, laziness forgotten, and crouches in front of him so that their eyes are level, and Naruto finds out that the man actually has two eyes, though one is red with black tomoe that spin slowly around his pupil. Something in him flinches at that, so he focuses solely on Kakashi's left eye. "Why do you call me that?" The man says lowly. And Naruto thinks, "Because you have the same voice and the same hair. Because you have the same body language. Because you both smell of dogs and lightning and regret and hurt and devotion, and because you're my family and you've forgotten me."

But instead of all that, he simply says (lies), "You have the same chakra."

Kakashi stares at him for a moment, and he begins to doubt himself. No doubt that the men are the same, of course, but maybe...well, Inu left. Kakashi came, but Inu _left_ , and maybe he meant to keep it that way. Maybe-Naruto knows what the Anbu are, what they do. Maybe he was just a job for Inu. Maybe, even though Inu had been important to him, he hadn't been quite as important to Inu.

So, he raises an eyebrow at Kakashi and says in the most obnoxious voice that he can muster (in the most normal voice he can manage even though Inu doesn't like him anymore), "Unless you're just fucking him?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and smiles until he feels like his face might break. And Kakashi just stares for another moment. Then his eyes crinkle in a smile.

"Language," He says, (and Naruto's getting pretty sick of people trying to correct his _fricking_ language) "I'm not fucking Inu." He says matter-of-factly, then stands, posture lazy once again. He pulls his book out of his flak jacket, and turns to walk away. And Naruto can't just let it go like that, not _now_ , not when he's so close to-

"Why did you leave?" Naruto asks, so quietly that he's not sure whether he wants and answer or not.

Kakashi pauses, turns, and says just as quietly, "Because I couldn't stay."

And Naruto wants to complain, wants to rage about how unfair this is, wants to reach out to Inu and grab on and not let go so that the man _can't_ leave him again, but he doesn't, because he can't risk it. "Inu-" he says, unsure of what he wants to say, but he has a feeling he _has_ to say it now, or he's going to lose his chance, "Don't...don't forget about me, okay?" He finishes lamely. That...that's not exactly what he meant, but it's the best he can do.

The man looks at him, then crouches crouches again so they're level. "I'll make you a deal," the man says near-silently, "I promise I won't forget about you, and you'll do your best to become the Hokage." Naruto nods and acts like these words don't sting like nettles. "And, when you _do_ become Hokage, _you_ can be the one telling me where to go, alright?" the man finishes.

And Naruto understands, he thinks. The man didn't _want_ to go, he _had_ to go. Inu may have had to leave, but Kakashi is doing his best to stay. And that's all that Naruto can really ask for, at least until he's the one telling people what to do. He nods, and Kakashi stands, and pats him gently on the head.

" _I_ am Kakashi." He says, more loudly this time, a question in one dark gray eye. Naruto gives him a small smile, real and bright, and places his hand on the one in his hair for a brief moment, then pushes it away and pretends to meticulously fix any strands that may be out of place. "Alright, Kakashi-sensei, that was all I needed. You and your hair ruining hands can go away now." he says, mockingly snooty.

Kakashi raises a brow. Then he rolls his eyes, and in the same moment, ruffles Naruto's hair so hard his headband falls over his eyes. "Hey!" Naruto yelps, but when he fixes his hitai-ate, Kakashi's already gone. But that's alright, because this time, he's not gone forever.

oOo

A few days later, in the hours of silence before Kakashi arrives (because Sasuke had made it _very_ clear, _very_ quickly that Sakura should never bother him during allotted training time), Naruto takes a moment to have a bit of a talk with Sakura

"Ano...Sakura-san," He says, hoping that the different form of address will get her attention, "Can I talk to you for a moment?" She turns to him, suspicion in her green eyes (green eyes that will never be as bright as Hari-san's, Naruto idly notes), and even Sasuke pauses in his angst routine long enough to give him a skeptical glance.

"What?" She asks, rude but receptive enough.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm planning on changing my behavior." He says easily, as though his insides aren't squirming with anxiety.

"What do you mean?" She replies, eyes narrowing.

"I mean, I'm going to stop pursuing you in a romantic way." He clarifies cheerfully, and she begins to glare at him.

"Oh, so I'm not _good enough_ for you now?" She snarls. Naruto actually catches a sympathetic glance from Sasuke, and he backs away slightly, palms raised in surrender because he will _never_ understand girls (he's honestly not sure why he was fixated on her in the first place. It was probably because she's pretty, and there's something in his memories about a beautiful, angry woman with bright hair who would've hung the sun and the moon for him, so he sees Sakura and he yearns).

"I thought you'd prefer it if I didn't bug you anymore!" He says plaintively, now backpedalling in earnest as she stomps toward him, "Plus, it's not completely about you," Naruto says quickly, his mind flashing through solutions to get out of this without lumps on his head or a black eye.

She pauses in her pursuit. "Clarify." She demands angrily.

Taking the chance he's been given, Naruto quickly explains, "Well, we're real ninja now, right?" She nods, rolling her eyes. "We're genin and everything, so I just think it would be good to be more, y'know, professional." She nods again, more slowly this time, her brow furrowing thoughtfully, and he internally sighs with relief. "Also, Iruka-sensei says that romantic relationships in genin teams don't usually work out, or at least the one in his didn't. It apparently brought their team a lot of bad tension and stuff, so..." he trails off, hoping that she'll understand and _not_ try to pummel him into the ground for a reason he doesn't understand.

Fortunately, Sakura nods again, as though she's actually contemplating his words. Then she glances in Sasuke's direction thoughtfully (not blushing when she finds him staring at the two of them, which is a first), and walks over to sit in front of one of the training posts. Naruto pretends he doesn't see the appreciative look the angst machine sends him.

And _speaking_ of the broody bastard, Naruto should probably make his peace with him as well.

So he walks up to him and holds out a hand. Sasuke looks at his face, then his hand, then back again, and even though the expression is its usual broody blankness, Naruto can almost hear his question. "Look," he sighs, "I'm gonna level with you. You're an asshole." Sasuke frowns darkly and opens his mouth, but before he can speak Naruto cuts him off. "You ignore me and Sakura, you brood about 95% of the time, and your rays of dark emotion could probably block out the sun if you tried hard enough.

" _Despite that_ ," He says as Sasuke opens his mouth, once again before Sasuke can speak, "I honestly look forward to working with you." Sasuke's mouth just about clicks shut, brows furrowing in confusion. "I admire your skills in taijutsu and ninjutsu," he says, somehow managing to _not_ make it sound like the words are being ripped out of him, "you're damn fun to work with when you're not being a jerk, you're strong in some areas that Sakura-san and I aren't, and I really think our team could be something great if we all manage to work together, like Kakashi-sensei's taught us."

Sasuke is unmoving in front of him, something vulnerable and raw in his eyes, and Naruto's hand is beginning to feel a little awkward, so he flexes his fingers and says, "So shake my hand, you bastard, and let's work more on killing the other guys than each other, okay?" Black eyes stare into determined blue, and slowly, Sasuke reaches out and shakes Naruto's hand, and Naruto thinks that maybe, _just maybe_ , they can pull this off.

Then Sasuke begins to look smug and says, "Hn. I _am_ stronger than you."

Naruto clenches his hand on reflex, and Sasuke clenches his as well. "I said in _some_ areas, you ass. My chakra control is _way_ better than yours is." (Because moving meditation was something that _Hari-san_ gave him to improve his chakra control. There was no way he was gonna do any less than his very best.) Sasuke's smug look falls, blue eyes glare into black, and their handshake grips tighten to bruising force.

Then Sakura stomps over and, seemingly on autopilot, smacks Narutoon the back of the head, then smacks _Sasuke_ on the back of the head. Both she and Sasuke look so surprised that Naruto just cracks up, falling to the ground with laughter, and he can feel Inu's chakra nearby so he looks up to see Kakashi in a tree with his book, his uncovered eye shining in amusement, and Naruto thinks that maybe this team will work out.

For Hari-san, he can _make_ it work.

oOoooOoooOo

So that's that! Thanks for all the support I've gotten, I've appreciated each and every one of your lovely reviews. If I didn't respond to you, know that it was literally only because I thought I already responded to you, and I'm sorry if I didn't :((.

One more thing, if anyone wants to continue guessing Harry's animagus form, please do so XD, I promise a prize in the form of 1. A minor OC to be included in the fic, 2. A possible scenario of your choosing appearing in the fic (bc I'm literally making these up based on a vague plot and a word randomizer and whatever comes to mind), or 3. A brief oneshot. The oneshot doesn't even have to be in this fandom; we can talk about it _if_ anyone guesses and wants ;D.

I'll see you all for the next chapter, it'll be another Harry pov one where we finally get to understand just what the fuck was hip happenin' this chapter!

(also does anyone wanna beta for me bc that would be fucking dope)


End file.
